Daddy's Orders
by ladylizzybladestriker97
Summary: Shaylee Jane Napier's life is chaotic. A teenage daddy's girl, she has a mind a little crazier than the average girl in Gotham. The monstrous persona inside her father is slowly creeping out, to influence her own. But in reality, he is just Jack Napier, a man who adores his daughter. Now, he's a psychopathic clown, thanks to the cruel world around them both. {Contains dark themes!}
1. Prologue

_**For my first fanfiction, I decided to do something from my favourite movie, The Dark Knight. I know the whole "Joker's Daughter" thing has been done to death, but I wanted to try and create my own story, hopefully something with a dark tone and diverse plot that would make this a good read.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from the Dark Knight movie, or any from the DC Universe. I only own my own characters.**_

_**PLEASE NOTE: This story contains dark themes and scenes of mostly violence and threat, with strong language and later on has gory moments with murder, torture and sexual content. Also throughout, scenes discussing and showing mental illness and distress. That's why it's rated M, but I'd say it's suitable for teen and up, of the non-faint-hearted. If you don't like it, don't read it. But of course there's humour and light-hearted moments, and some serious fluff and corny father/daughter moments, as well as fluffy romantic scenes.**_

_**Enjoy. This is for the Heath's Joker freaks, and is dedicated to his work and his unbelievable talent he left behind. R.I.P Heath Ledger.**_

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**Prologue**

It's so cold in here.

I mean, it's _so _cold.

Doesn't this place have central heating?

I bet they do it deliberately. They make it cold in these rooms on purpose, to punish the undeserving scumbags in this wretched place.

This pen is trembling in my right hand. I have goosebumps prickling up my arms. My feet are dancing underneath this desk, with my right leg jiggling impatiently.

It's because I'm not outside.

Once again, the barred window up above me is blindingly distracting. It's yelling at me, that I'm a prisoner.

_Everything _is telling me I'm a prisoner.

I _know_ that. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.

Sorry, let's get back to what I _should _be writing down, because everything I write should have a meaning. Just like my father said yesterday, that every playing card signifies something in life.

Recently, I was asked what my earliest memory was. I explained I had too many to talk about. So I thought, a genius idea would be to write them all in here, like a diary.

But I can't. I'd be here forever. Besides, I don't _want _to talk about all of them. This paper might become smudged with this awful pen's black ink, which of course would resolve in making my hands even dirtier. In fact, the dirt buried underneath my gnawed-upon fingernails matches the colour of this ink splashing everywhere.

I'm getting distracted again, aren't I? Sorry. It happens. It's been happing since I was nearly seven. I can't focus on anything academic. Who _wants _to do that, anyway?

I only concentrate on things that _matter_, which I have been doing over the past few days. I've flicked my stringy hair over my shoulder, sighed, carried my heels into the big world, done my job, and laughed.

Now I'm here.

I've been told to write down my thoughts and feelings in this book, you see, as well as explain how I got to be here today, starting from as far back as I can remember, and by that, I mean, _very _far back.

That's an awful lot of explanation to swallow. Right now, it's like I'm going to take a glorious bite out of my whole lousy life, tasting every aspect of it on my taste buds, and telling you how it tasted. It's tasteless, maybe with a hint of blood to it.

Okay, I should _really_ start now.

I'm sorry, I get this from my father, talking and talking and never shutting up with my similes and philosophical life lessons.

I get a lot from my father, in fact.

I don't think it's wise to go on about how I was as a baby and toddler, because I was like any other "goddamn noisy brat", as my mother told me once in an argument.

To some up, I was troublesome. A little, boisterous, screaming, violent brat.

That's how my mother described me.

My father described as an adorable, creative but dangerously rebellious little thing.

I think I prefer that description.

Although I can't explain all my earliest memories, I can, however, tell you the first _word_ I ever said.

Daddy.

I fondly remember dad recalling this day. I was coming up to a year old, and I was just managing to stay upright in my cot. Dad said he was busy neatly piling up some money to buy me some new petite pink baby clothes. According to him, I was watching him admiringly from my cot, even though I was a baby. I started giggling at him when he got frustrated with himself, making silly noises as he kept losing count.

And after a few minutes I just gargled, "Daddy!" out of nowhere.

Dad said it was a moment of triumph as he'd been trying to get me to speak for months and months.

Shows that I got his outstanding intelligence. Even under the age of a year old, I was managing to tie little words together, even if it was just 'daddy' or 'mommy'.

Dad said even when I was around two years old, I knew the kind of dangers that swarmed around in this world, always prepared to scare me, jumping out from behind the corner. The danger was always ready to teach me everything about life.

You see, for as long as I can remember, I've been exposed to delicious danger. I've been exposed to all kinds of strange happenings. Even as a young girl, I would witness objects that would spark my mind. Objects that caused danger, which of course I wasn't aware of until I was a bit older, but I was always fascinated with them.

I was never a little girl for ponies and unicorns. My bedroom walls were exposed with my grubby drawings of bats and skulls, which I started to sketch on my walls at three years old, when my dad first bought me colouring pens.

That's when drawing became a part of my life, as a way to escape this strange world.

Up until I was fifteen years old, I lived in a tiny flat in the little isolated Gotham Town, which just on the outskirts of Gotham City. It was so cramped me and my parents struggled living there, but it never mattered to me. Dad was always out and about, and mom drifted away from me as I grew from a toddler to a child, so I was almost always alone, which was what I wanted. I spent most of my time in my bedroom, drawing all kinds of gory scenes of murder and witchcraft, dark spells and serial killers on the lookout for the man who killed his wife.

We lived off a flat consisting room with a running tap and an ice-cold shower, a stove and a refrigerator, two squeezed-in bedrooms and a room consisting of a 1970's dying television set, a torn apart sofa, a table, a fireplace and one single photo of my grandmother, but the most memorable place, one single hallway, where a lot of the arguments happened.

I currently reside in the City. I don't have any money. I don't _earn_ because I haven't got a job, but I don't _need_ one. I steal money to get the stuff I need. As a matter of fact, I don't even do _that _anymore. I just steal whatever I want. So what? It's not affecting anyone but the cops' stupid justice system. I don't _need_ a job at this current time because I am doing much more exciting stuff.

I don't go to school. I was expelled when I was thirteen, but I didn't care. I couldn't _stand_ the sight of other kids. They all stared at me like I was some kind of outcast, like I was a freak. Just because I wore something a little more outlandish and gothic, but, this city is chock full of judgemental people. The _whole world _is full of them. _They're_ the ones who are freaks, roaming around this place like they're actually happy to be here.

Gotham Town is run by the same people in Gotham City, including the piece of crap they have for a "police force". It sucks. Gotham's _full_ of people who take no notice of the smaller kind, who are all hypocrites. It's such a joy to have a police force that's so appalling, because they let you get away with murder. Literally.

I'm just lucky, you see, because I have my dad, who looked after me, on his own, since I was ten years old. I'm eighteen next year, and I have no grades, no friends and no ambitions. I don't even have love anymore. Love is overrated.

But you know what I _do_ have? Many other things that some other teenagers won't have. I have skill. I have defence. I have intelligence. I didn't need math or science to make me clever, just the pure brilliance of me and my father's genius minds. It's all about genetics, you see. Thank _goodness_ I inherited dad's intelligence and not mom's. I inherited a lot of things from my father, a lot of _dangerous _things, but mostly all my mother's looks were passed down to me, which isn't bad, because my mother is a beautiful woman.

When I was a child, my father was out all day most days. Sometimes never getting back until very late. I never panicked though, because I knew he was going to return every time, and he did. Without fail. He always came back to make sure I was fine, to see if I was defending myself, to see if I was being strong and making sure my mind hadn't been broken. He was always the one spending time with me when no one else gave a care in this darkened world.

My father's a criminal.

His name is Jack Napier. Well…it _was_.

It _was_, you say? Well, that'll be explained if you read further on.

So, what does that make me? The child of a scummy murderer? Not really. More like the child of intellectual genius.

But if you must know, I'm the daughter of a psychopath…but it's okay. Like I said, I've been exposed to danger from a young age, exposed to pure darkness. I've seen the sensation it brings to dad, and I've felt that adrenaline, I've touched the sharp end and examined an endless amount of funny expressions, filled with shock. Shock that a young girl like me could be so cruel and so heartless. I've learnt now that hating my father just because of what he is, is nonsense. I can't break the unconditional love I've always had for him, even if his is somewhat a _little broken_.

I don't want to be a friendly citizen. It's mentally and emotionally impossible for me to do that, anyway. Dad has _always_ told me Gotham is a place that needs to improve its established order, to get rid of people who will only make it worse. People like the Batman and Commissioner James Gordon for example.

At this moment in time, Gotham is still a pitiful place. Our District Attorney, Harvey Dent is dead, after a madman ran rampant around the City. I got caught up in this madman's ways.

That's how I lead myself to be sitting here, right now.

No one's ever going to stop him from doing what his mind tells him to do, because he _can't_ control his mind. I've seen him be beaten down by his overpowering brain. What goes on inside his head is pure evil. Trust me. I _know_.

_How_ do I know?

Who _is _this madman?

A tortured soul, _that's _who he is, and I _know_, because, I've seen his soul be ripped apart.

Since seeing that soul be ripped away, I've had to unleash the pain and horror that's been inside my head since before I can remember. I can't help it. I didn't _want _to happen, but the way I see it now, is that it's part of me.

They tell me I'm destined to be this way.

I've let Princess Jane escape.

Dinner hour has arrived now.

Finally, I can escape the freezing cold. I can have food to melt in my mouth, at last.

I get to go and see this madman again now.

Therefore, I get to go and see my daddy now.

Have you put the pieces together now?

Surprised? Don't be.

Think I'm crazy? Don't think that.

Do I disturb you? Well…I think I disturb _everyone_, with how I am, but everyone in here disturbs each other with their actions and their speech. It's okay. I'm used to the morbid minds of these people. Why? Because _I _have one, too, but don't let _that _put you off.

When I return, I can begin to tell you an interesting story. It's not a horror story, it's a nice story. I swear. It's about a father and a daughter. They went through hell, but, you know, you still _loved _the living daylights out of one another.

Without that love, they wouldn't have ended up being murderous, insane killers.

It's hard to explain, but I'll try to.

I've been asked to write down how I feel, and if this is the only way to explain properly, then so be it.

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_**Please read on if you like what you see so far. And yes, it's very deep, but too bad! :D**_

_**R&amp;R, thank you so much :)**_


	2. The First Trigger

_**Hey guys, so this is the first (very short and strange) ****chapter of my very first fanfic! This may be edited.**_

_**NOTE: This chapter contains minor violence and a some disturbing moments.**_

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**PART ONE: NAPIER**

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**Chapter 1 – The First Trigger**

My earliest memory of my own complete madness traces back to when I was just eight years old.

I looked like your typical eight-year old little girl. Thick brown hair (like mom's) in pigtails, deep brown eyes (like dad's) that sparkled with innocence, a pale complexion with a perfectly rounded face, complete with a cheeky grin. I was lucky I was a super cute child, I could fool people more easily then.

The time of year was about February, and it was an awful blustery Sunday afternoon. Rain was battering my shabby window, and our small, isolated flat was freezing. I was tucked up in my bed, shivering. In my hand I shakily held my drawing pad with my special pen (which dad had stolen for me). I'd been drawing for hours and was getting restless. Dad was out, of course, probably off to rob a bank in Gotham or something. I didn't even question what he was doing then because I knew he was being awesome, unlike mom who fired questions at him endlessly. Mom was in the sitting room at this time, but I had no clue what she was doing. She never came to talk to me.

I'd had enough, so I hid under my thin covers and strained my eyes staring ahead of me, ready for dad to return home with a pile of money.

I suddenly heard footsteps approaching my room, making me alert. I gripped my pad and flung the covers away, hoping dad would be standing in my doorway.

Turns out it was only mom.

My mom's name was Diana Jane Jenson. Her voice was like a bullet, it was ready to trigger at any moment and when it did, all hell was let loose. She yelled at dad more than me, though, but she did bombard me with some horrific names. She was just as bad as the loser kids in school. To give her some credit though, she did care a little bit, she always tried to keep me safe, especially when dad had been gone for hours on end.

Stress had taken over her mind. She and dad had been quarrelling like street cats more than ever now. I'd heard thumping and loud bangs when I was in bed at night, but I never witnessed it for myself yet. Dad more or less had the last word every time, of course. I noticed as the years went by, dad's yelling became more and more insane.

When I saw it was her, I scrambled back into bed, hugging my pad and turning my back on her. Talking to her now was pointless, I knew she'd just scream at me.

"Shaylee?" I heard her say. I simply refused to speak. I stroked my pad, pretending not to listen. "Shaylee, honey…" she dared to continue. "I'm going out. Okay? Possibly to Gotham's city centre. To find your father. I'm worried about him."

I darted around at the thought of my father. I found it strange that mom was worried about him, making me stare at her for a few moments. I found that staring at someone for a while makes them more uncomfortable, while leaving me fascinated. I was very smart for an eight-year-old, I was fully aware my mom was not happy, but I also knew my dad didn't care one bit. He only cared about me.

"Then I'm coming, too," I said, starting to crawl to the end of the bed. I was deadly serious, after all.

"No, Shaylee, you stay here," she said, kneeling down to my level.

"No, I want to come!" I shouted, trying to push my way past her.

Mom held me back, firmly, and glared at me. "Shaylee, listen. It's too busy out there today. We know what your father's like, God knows what he's up to right now." She paused, still holding my arms. Her voice shook a little bit, as she glanced up towards the ceiling, and then back towards me, who was growing impatient. "I think there's something wrong with him. He won't let me take him to a doctor…"

"He doesn't want to go to a doctor, mom," I interrupted, defensively.

"I know but, the things he's doing now…it may get worse, Shay."

"But I want to come and find him!"

"Calm down, calm down. Just leave me to it, okay? I'll lock the door. Just, just…" She lost her voice in the midst of her terrified mind. I was still trying to escape her grasp, but I had no chance against her.

She then kissed me gently on the forehead while I wriggled around trying to avoid it, she rose up and left the room, slamming the door behind her. I immediately turned away and rubbed my head violently, like it had been infected. I heard our front door slam and the key locking it.

"MOM!" I screamed.

I was used to being left alone in the house, but it always sparked the anger in me. The thought of being left alone, especially with dad not being there, made the walls in out flat rumble with my screaming. My mind was telling me to suddenly fight back. I wasn't _that _obedient anyway. I was so annoyed by the fact mom had just decided to leave me in favour of going to look for dad, plus I hated the fact dad wasn't home at all. I was distressed that day already, I just couldn't take it. My head started banging, taking control of my thoughts.

I rushed to the front door and desperately tugged on the handle, screaming on the top of my lungs. My screams echoed in the hallway, I felt my eyes becoming wet, my head was reeling with thoughts of dad…and mom…yelling. The thought of dad being caught.

I couldn't help but scream, I had to do it to drown out the thoughts.

I fell on my tiny knees and whimpered in front of the door, like a petulant dog. I was only a little girl at the time, remember, so I had no idea what to think about all this. It sounds really peculiar, I know, but this what happened every time I was left alone, I lost my rag and broke out into horrible hysterics.

"Mommy…" I was sobbing, still clinging onto the door handle. "Mommy come back…come BACK! I want to go with you!" I yanked the handle hard, pointlessly, as I still screamed.

At that moment, I heard shuffling in the kitchen area, making me jump and turn around, my back now up against the door. My cries had woken our nine-year-old Rottweiler, Ace, who came plodding into the hallway, casually.

I was scared of Ace, I had no idea why mom and dad decided to get a dog in the first place. There was barely room for him, plus we hadn't the money to care for him. They got him when they first moved in together, before they had me. He was _so boring_, as well. All he did was sleep all day and he made no effort to nuzzle me when I was lonely. Dad said he thought he'd make a "fun addition" to the family, but it turned out that dad can't stand him either. Mom's the one who looks after him, in fact she loved that damn thing more than me. Dad yelled at him too, one time pushing him into a wall, and I remember us both laughing as the scruffy thing went out, limping. It was funny, Dad loved dogs apart from the one he owned. He truly was unpredictable.

The last thing I needed was the dog coming in and being in my way. I glared at him as he entered the room, lazily laying down next to me. His puppy eyes triggered my impatience.

"Go away, Ace," I moaned, trying to push him away, like dad did. He flinched, but in no way was he about to move. "Come on, Ace, leave me alone." I was panting hard from my crazy encounter. I looked above me to the door handle again, and then back to Ace, who was annoyingly close to my foot.

A sudden flash in me made me kick the dog hard with the foot he was resting on, groaning loudly in my girly-high pitched voice. As I watched him jump up in horror and scamper away, I began to laugh. I laughed hard, scrunching my little face up, and I laughed so hard until the point I was holding my stomach. I couldn't help it. It was just the way Ace had pathetically leaped up and run away, he was so stupid.

Once I calmed myself down, I sighed heavily and did not move for maybe five minutes. It all seemed very quiet now, except my head still quietly went on. I wasn't sure what was playing in my mind, but it was like it was preparing me for a fight. I listened very carefully, because I, as you know, was not stupid. I stared ahead and paid attention closely.

This was not me anymore.

Of course, at the time I had no idea what this was, but the thought of noises in my head taking control of my thoughts did not scare me. It actually intrigued me. I'd often seen how dad would take his time when talking to someone. He'd glance up every now and then to listen to an invisible person above him, almost like a random person was talking to him in his head, giving him instructions on something clever to say. His voice would change occasionally when talking to mom, sometimes it was soft and dangerous, and other times vulgar and menacing, totally taking control of her.

The noises weren't that loud in my head at that time, and after banging my head on the wall several times, I finally felt calm again. Although I was still irritated, I decided to not let that get to me and decide to keep calm. Dad was always very calm after a row with mom, acting like it had never happened and I was determined to be like him.

I made my way into mom and dad's room, which was simply a lamp dangling by a thread on the ceiling, a double bed, a rusty chest of drawers and a small wardrobe. I'd been in there many times, but out of the blue I wanted to explore. I'd ran out of ideas to draw, so I looked around for inspiration. I filed through dad's clothes, just out of curiosity. I went through an absurdly large amount of suits and ties. Some of them were even colourful, the ties decorated with pretty patterns, which left me very puzzled. I'd never noticed dad wearing clothes like this before.

Then I noticed neat piles of small pots at the bottom. I picked the one on the top up and curiously fiddled with it, as I'd never seen one of these before either. "Standard White Face Paint" it read. It certainly didn't look like the make-up mom used, hers was all neatly coordinated on her tiny dressing table in the sitting room. With a hard yank I pulled off the top and there it was, a pot of thick white face paint, but my young self saw it as make-up. Without thinking I plunged my delicate finger in it until it was covered with heavy white paint.

I sat crossed-legged on the floor, still gripping the pot in my hand and staring at my finger in white paint. My mind then thought of many reasons why dad was keeping this stuff hidden amongst his clothes. One theory was he was going to paint the house, but, he was never up to stuff as boring as that. Maybe he'd bought it for me to play dress up and it was a secret. If that was the case, I'd just ruined it all. I knew for a fact, however, that dad had probably stolen all of this.

I panicked, and quickly placed the lid back on it. I hid back in the wardrobe with the others and banged the door noisily. Bad mistake. The door now had an untidy line of white paint across it. I gasped in horror and rushed to the bathroom, nearly knocking the dog over again. I was wheezing by the time I'd gotten there and on my tiptoes I reached for the flannel on the top shelf. Of course I was obviously going to use it to wipe the paint of dad's wardrobe, but I got one hell of a surprise when I looked at the flannel. Although it was quite faint, I could see that the exact same white paint was all over the flannel.

My eyes widened and my little brain was filled with wonder. I dropped it on the floor and gradually walked out of the bathroom and past Ace, who wouldn't stop staring at me. I thought to myself, this was very strange. I'd never seen this before in the flat, and now suddenly it seemed like it was everywhere.

I was now back in mom and dad's room, my mind still racing with thought. You know what they say, a child's curiosity can lead to many things, dangerous or not. I slumped against the front door again, waiting for dad to come home. I didn't care if mom came back or not, she'd see the paint on the door and make my eyes red. Then again, she'd know if the paint was in there, right? Maybe she didn't. Mom and dad didn't share a lot, never ever.

I sat down against the end of their bed, fiddling with the end of my t-shirt. Why could I never keep still? Their door was still wide open before me, with Ace laying there in front of it. My eyes trailed around the room for a while, investigating new ideas for my art. Art was the only thing I was good at in school, so I at least _tried _to keep up with that skill.

I came to realise that there was nothing particularly interesting around, as usual. I glanced up towards the front door at the end of the hall now and then, to see if dad would walk through. My hands started to trace the bumpy carpet out of boredom, occasionally I picked at it and flicked a bit of carpet away. I was creating waves in the carpet with my hands, which at least was a little interesting. My right hand slipped underneath the bed (the gap was big enough so things could be kept underneath it) as I stroked it backwards.

I jumped a little when my hand touched something. It felt cold and heavy, and it felt like it had multiple buttons on it. I grinned. _Finally, something to play with_, I thought. I crawled excitedly to the other side of the bed and rested my head on the floor, carefully inspecting underneath the bed, trying to see clearly what my discovery was. I slid my hand underneath and tried to grab what I'd felt, stretching and groaning as my hand went further under the bed.

I felt my pointing finger feel something.

"Gotcha!" I giggled, dragging it out with my finger until I had the full thing in my hand.

Once I'd gotten it, I hunched over on my knees and looked eagerly at my discovery. I sighed heavily when I discovered what it was. In my hand lay a small, black gun. I already knew what one of these were, I'd seen dad carry one out of the house before. However, I didn't know what they could do at the time, but I fully knew they weren't toys. I'd seen many boys at schools have plastic ones of these, which wasn't really allowed, but like they took no notice of the rules, I never ever took notice of what games they played with them, because I didn't care about the other kids.

But little did I know the danger I held in my tiny hand.

There was a sudden thud outside the window, making me drop the gun out of surprise, and it now lay before my knees. I saw Ace leap up from where he was laying, his ears pricked up. He was now scurrying up to the door, where the banging continued. I picked up the gun and steadily walked into the hallway. My heart starting beating fast as my mind starting thinking of all the possibilities of what could be outside. I stayed on my toes, preparing myself to fight at any moment. I'd won several fights at school before now, I loved seeing the pathetic girls go sobbing to the teacher about their bruises. I never cared if I had to write lines, I just doodled instead anyway.

I joined the dog at the window by the front door. I jumped a mile again when Ace starting barking crazily, but I managed to keep the gun tightly in my hand this time. I peered out of the window, covering my ears up. It was only workmen outside putting the bins away, giving me a sigh of relief. It didn't calm down the dog though. He continued to rack my brains out with his barking at the commotion outside.

"Oh, shut up," I snapped at him. He didn't. My voice now had an edge to it as I got more and more worked up. "Shut up, Ace!" I yelled at him.

When he didn't obey, my anger started to explode inside me again. I copied what dad does and yanked him backwards by his collar with my free hand, making him yelp.

"I said shut up!" I shouted, as the dog whined at me.

I thought I'd succeeded for a second, but he started barking again, turning his head back round to the window. I grumbled under my breath and started fiddling with the gun in my hand, to try and keep myself distracted from him.

It didn't work. I just wanted the noise to stop. It had only just left and now it was beginning to control my mind once more. I put my hands over my head as the dog continued to bark at the window. I turned my back on him and the room became black, the pounding outside now accompanied by the thuds in my mind.

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Please, just shut up! ACE! Be quiet!" I had a pretty sharp tongue for an eight-year-old, one thing useful I got from mom.

I wheeled myself around to face the dog who seemed to be a track on repeat. I just simply let out a scream, which almost drowned out the sound completely. My hands came off my head, and down to my side, where the gun was still securely in my right hand. My hands were like leaves in the fall as I put them up in front of my crumpled face of anger. I felt a tear running down my cheek.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed again, with a slight whimper to my voice, kicking the dog hard, who fumbled backwards. I clenched my fists as I watched the dog move out of way.

Suddenly, a huge bang erupted the flat and I saw the dog flop down in the middle of the hall.

Everything went quiet.

My mind suddenly went blank. I was panting hard, my eyes still filled with tears.

I stared at the dog, who lay there motionless.

The noise outside had stopped too, so I shakily walked up to the window to see if the workmen had gone. They had, thankfully, so I rushed back to Ace and cautiously sat in front of me, crossed-legged.

I swear I could hear a pin drop at that moment.

I looked again at the gun in my hand for a few long moments. I was still unaware what it was, but it still captivated me. I then looked at Ace, whose eyes were closed and mouth was still gaping open, looking as peaceful as ever. I prodded him with the gun, making him budge slightly. I looked more carefully at Ace, noticing a tiny, black pin on his neck. As I stared at it, wondrously, I felt a cool liquid meet my finger on my free hand.

This made me leap backwards onto my feet. I shook my hand fiercely to get it off and that's when I noticed it. Streaks of crimson red was pouring onto the carpet, and it looked like it was coming from underneath Ace's body. I finally dropped the gun onto the floor.

I very strange feeling gripped me there and then.

I kneeled down, closer and whispered, "Ace?" I tried poking his eyes, but nothing happened. "Ace?" I said again.

I gazed at the Rottweiler blankly. I knew fully well what had happened. He was dead. The red liquid was blood and the black pin was a bullet.

But I didn't know it was a bullet. I was just an innocent eight-year-old, after all.

I stood up and nudged Ace with my foot, which just caused more red to drizzle out. My socks were now covered in blood, as I walked away from the lifeless body. I looked down on it, blankly, still panting slightly.

This is going to sound strange right now, but I didn't feel anything at that moment. I knew I _should _have felt guilty, I _should_ have felt pain, I _should_ have felt terrible…but I didn't. I felt nothing. No emotion whatsoever. I did feel a little confused, though, as I didn't know how Ace was killed. I know it's obvious what happened now. When I clenched my fists out of anger, I accidentally triggered the gun and the dog got shot. Not intentionally, though.

I sensed a surge of relief right then, because he'd finally shut up, and I wouldn't have to deal with him later. I felt this unfamiliar feeling in me, I feeling which I feel more often now, but as an eight-year-old is was very peculiar. But not in a bad way.

At that moment in time, I was still more worried about dad coming home safe. I had a million things to ask him anyway. About the paint, about the toy I'd found (which we all know is obviously a gun) and how Ace had just decided to die.

That's how it felt to me. Ace just died there and then, and in a way I felt like I'd succeeded, because I'd gotten him to be quiet.

This was the very first day I'd felt like this. A sense of achievement, a sense of being in control, despite not knowing why. It felt incredible.

I wondered if dad had felt this way before.

I sat in front of the door again, waiting, leaving the corpse of our dog just there behind me. I knew dad would return because he always did. Although, this was the first time I'd waited in front of the door for him, but the way that I felt at that moment, I just wanted to tell him everything. I sat there until the sun started peeping over the little houses, until eventually it wasn't there at all.


	3. Daddy's Gun

_**Jack Napier's (Joker) first appearance in the story. **_

_**NOTE: This chapter contains domestic violence and conversation of disturbing topic**__**.**_

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Daddy's Gun **

I didn't notice it but I fell asleep by the time an hour had slipped by.

I was woken up when I heard the sound of the harsh wind batter my window, making me stir. However, when I blinked my eyes open and glanced down, I noticed that the carpet in the hallway was not underneath me anymore. It was my bed sheets. I felt something soft underneath my head, my pillow. I blinked hard, a puzzled look came across my face. That's when I lay on my back (I couldn't be bothered sitting up) and realised I was in my bedroom, with my lampshade lighting up the room. The sound of the wind quietened a little, but the rain kept on pouring.

Of course I was totally confused, but nevertheless I stretched over to look at my clock on my side table. I got a shock when I read it. 21.37pm.

I still had 23 minutes before bedtime!

I finally sat up, well in fact I leapt up and threw the covers off of me. I switched on the main light and then stopped in my tracks. I heard the TV humming from the sitting room.

I knew it for a fact now. Dad was home!

I quickly slipped on my slippers and dressed myself in my gorgeous pink dressing gown that dad had gotten for me. Like I was in a marathon, I ran out of my bedroom, of course leading me into the hallway.

Then my excitement faded. The events from that afternoon soon came flooding back to me. The red stains from the event before, were still clearly visible on the floor. I stroked them with my hand, it wasn't as cool and soothing as I'd remembered.

I only realised there and then that the dog had disappeared. My eight-year-old mind came to the obvious conclusion that he'd gone to doggy heaven…or then again, doggy hell, as Ace was a dog from hell. That made me giggle slightly under my breath.

Not quiet enough for dad to hear me, though.

"What's so funny, Shaylee?" His distinctive voice called from the sitting room. Even with the door firmly shut, his voice was so crisp and clear, I never failed to hear his every word.

Upon hearing his voice, I dashed into the room with the door swinging behind me. Dad was sat on the torn-apart sofa, holding onto a glass of mom's vodka in his hand and the TV was blaring the other side of the room. His floppy brown hair with a hint of frizz in it, drooped down the side of his head, though not hiding his handsome face. He sat there like he was a king, and as I entered the room, his brown eyes followed me in. Dad smiled when I rushed over to him, my arms outstretched like I was about four again. He didn't seem to mind though. He chuckled as I jumped onto him, hugging him round the neck. He'd only been gone for a few hours, but I'd missed him so much. He was the only person who made me happy. Like his usual self, he roughly threw me onto my back, making me squeal.

"Dad!" I laughed as he pushed me on my back. I kicked his arm and he played around with me like a kid, pretending to be in pain. He laughed along with me. Dad's laugh was hilarious, always making the walls of the flat ring whenever he did.

Once we'd calmed down from hysterics, dad turned down the volume on the TV, and looked back at me as he put his glass to one side. I hadn't moved and was still on my back, looking up proudly at my father.

"How are you, precious?" he asked me, loudly.

"I'm okay," I replied, with a slight yawn.

Dad smirked at me. "Must've got up to a lot today if you're that tired, Shay."

That's when my heart skipped a beat as I remembered what had happened that afternoon. My mind suddenly couldn't connect with my mouth and I couldn't say any words as dad continued to grin at me.

Thank goodness he broke the silence. "You were certainly tired when I came home, honey. There you were, flat out on the floor. I had to put you to bed. What woke you up just now anyway?"

"The wind, dad," I answered, eventually. "The wind was loud of my window."

"Ah, yes, that damn wind. Been a lot of trouble for me today too."

I sat up, smiling, leaning closer to dad.

"What did you do today, dad?" I asked, excitedly.

I always loved dad's stories about his criminal ways, which is most unusual for a little girl, mind you, but, as I've said, I didn't care what sort of trouble dad caused, as long as he cared about me. Most nights, these stories consisted of kicking a guy's ass or getting the better of some losers down at the bank.

Unfortunately, tonight wasn't one of those nights.

"Nothing much, nothing much," he replied, simply, making my smile fade a little. "Just the usual." He paused, and leaned in closer to me, exposing his rotten teeth with his sudden grin, and lowered his deep voice. "I'm much more interested in what you've been up to anyway, my darling."

Dad grabbed me and pulled me closer to him, startling me a bit. He looked at me with a crafty smile, as he put his long arms around my shoulders. I didn't say anything, but I tensely nuzzled up to him anyway. I gulped, looking down and fiddled with my hands. I wasn't sure where to begin. Like I said before, dad was really unpredictable. I didn't know how he would react. The thought of him being angry with me made my heart race.

I stuttered, still fiddling around with my hands and the end of my dressing gown. Then dad gently lifted my chin up.

"Look at me," he said, still maintaining that smile. Thank goodness. He seemed to be acting calm, although his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Come on, tell your old man what you've been doing, hmm?"

My mind told me to start at the beginning.

"Well, uh…" I mumbled. "So, mom said she was going out…"

I was interrupted by dad's annoyed sigh.

"Your mother…" He rolled his eyes, then escaping a small laugh, his eyes glancing upwards, still holding my chin with his hand. "Where _is_ your mother, anyway? Stupid woman hasn't given me a call, not left a note, not come home…" He muttered something that I couldn't quite work out and then groaned quietly. "Where did she go, Shay?"

"She went to find you," I replied, nervously. "Like…this afternoon."

"Oh, how thoughtful of her. Well, she didn't succeed, did she, honey?" He continued laughing, making me giggle along with him. "Oh…and she _still_ isn't home yet. Wherever could she be?"

"She'll be home…"

"I don't care." I wasn't sure if he was being serious or not, so remained quiet. "She's driving me…_insane_ at the moment, Shaylee."

There was a short silence before I tried to continue, "Anyway, she said she was going out to find you…which…which made me so mad because I wanted to come too…"

"Yes…"

"I got mad so I started screaming and... and I started tugging on the door, and, I…I…uh, I…I could hear banging and…"

My voice started to crack, so I stopped in mid-sentence. I wanted to punch myself in the face because crying in front of dad was not something I wanted to find myself doing.

To my surprise, dad stayed calm for me, despite sighing as if he was expecting me to say what I did.

"Calm down, calm down…" he shushed me. "Shay, look at me. Look at daddy."

I did so, desperately trying to fight back the tears. The thoughts were flooding back to me and were just repeating in my head. It just messed up my mind big time.

I'd seen dad get mad like that a few times. He'd been doing it more often at that time, though. Like I said before, his yelling was getting scarier as the years went by, almost making me frightened of him, but of course at the time I had no idea his mind was very slowly going just a tad more out of control every day.

I knew his anger was becoming more frightening because I'd heard him scream at mom, and she'd try to outdo him but she never _ever _won. But I knew I shouldn't be scared of dad, because he never yelled at me like that. Never.

I thought I'd witness his shouting right at that moment because I was being pathetic, but, luckily, he stayed calm.

"Look, look, look…Shay…I _know_ what you've done today," he continued, raising his eyebrows and giving me a little smirk. That made my heart race. "You went into daddy's room, didn't you?"

I said nothing.

"Didn't you?" he repeated.

I nodded timidly, my eyes glancing down at my lap. I didn't dare look at him because I thought I was in trouble.

But I heard dad snigger quietly, making me shoot my head up at him.

"Oh yes, you did, you did…" he continued, holding back the giggles. "And what did you find, hmm?"

"I…I found, uh…"

"You found daddy's gun, didn't you, darling?"

Dad's grin became wider, as he slowly placed one of his hands on my cheek.

"I…I don't know…" I said, truthfully.

"Yes, you did," Dad said. "That little black toy under the bed?" I nodded. "That's the one." He paused as I stared at him, questionably. "You see, Shaylee…daddy uses that, to show people whose boss. People get _really _scared when they see one of those…well, most people. People who use them a lot, like daddy, they get used to it. I remember seeing one for the first time when I was about your age. I saw my dad use it trying to break into our house when mom had locked us inside. When he came in, he fiddled with it, and then threw it to one side. He left it unattended as he made my poor mommy cry. My mind went into wonder with it, I wanted to try and use it, too. My mom was watching me when I picked it up, she held me back but…I was just _curious _about it. Fascinating. Is that how you felt with it, too, honey?"

I nodded again as I continued to listen to dad's story, my eyes fixated on his expression-filled face as he recalled his past.

"So…I tried to use it but it didn't work…my mom snatched it off me and threw it out of the house, making me scream because I _so _wanted to play with it. I screamed very loud, Shaylee…._very _loud…just like you did."

Dad's voice grew more and more dangerous now, becoming slightly gruffer, but that didn't frighten me, it just kept me more absorbed with his story. I didn't know if this story was true, of course, some of his stories seemed a bit unrealistic to me, but I always _liked _to believe they were true.

"My father laughed at me when I yelled and he _hit me_." Dad's voice growled when he said 'hit me', and after that he paused for a slight second, before continuing. "Unfortunately for me, it didn't have bullets in it which means it doesn't work, Shay. You understand?"

"Yeah," I answered, quietly.

"Father had taken them out before he chucked it, you see, but when he saw me yelling, he turned to me, and he said, '_If you don't shut up I'll show you what they're for!_'"

His impression of his father made me burst into laughter. Dad put his finger on my lips, lightly.

"Shh, shh….I'm not finished, Shay," he whispered. I shut up immediately.

"He _frightened_ poor little me, so I didn't talk back to him, but at that moment, my mommy put the thing to his head. _'It's working now'_ she says to 'im. Next thing I know, ah, she's on the floor, along with me, and then the next day she's in hospital."

Everything suddenly went silent. Dad looked at me in the eye, his expression was very serious. His hand had still not removed from my cheek.

"Wa-Was she okay?" I asked, pulling my hair back slightly.

"Oh yeah, yeah….yeah she was fine," Dad replied, taking his time with the words. "The point _is_, Shay, now you know how they work, right? Do you know?"

"Y-Yeah…" I traced my mind back to dad's story, straining my face thinking. "They don't work unless they have…bullets in them?"

"That's right. Bullets are what fire from it to scare the person. So…what happened today then, hmm? Did the gun have…_bullets _in it today, Shaylee? Because I remember leaving them in there."

I didn't say a word, because I was now totally confused. I tried to think back but I never recalled seeing anything like that on the gun.

"Lost for words, honey, hmm?" Dad let out a little laugh, making me jump. "When I walked in, I saw you laying there, _ever _so peacefully, and you had daddy's gun in your hand, and there was the dog, laying there with you. Neither of you stirred. I thought it was strange, you see, because you've _never ever _liked that mean old thing. So why did you just decide to take some nap time with him? I took the gun away, and you know…you what I noticed? When I picked you up and took you to bed, your socks were stained red. How did that happen then, hmm?"

I knew very well dad wasn't stupid. He was very, very clever. In fact, he was _too _clever. I could tell by looking in his eyes that he knew Ace had spilled blood that afternoon. He was just being sneaky and trying to get me to tell him some amazing story. He wanted to hear those words from the tip of my tongue.

I began stuttering again.

"Ace…Ace was pouring blood and I stepped in it," I said.

"Spouting blood, was he? And how did that happen?" He then paused, and spoke more softly when he saw my bewildered face. "I won't be angry, you know, Shay. I just want to know what happened. I'm not complaining, am I?"

That made my face light up a little more. I sighed softly out of relief. Dad winked at me.

"I…I'm not sure what happened, dad," I explained. "I found the…gun under your bed and I thought it was cool, but then Ace started barking because of the workmen outside. I just got angry with him because he was so noisy…"

"Ah, there's nothing wrong with getting angry, baby, it's part of life. Carry on."

"I was telling him to shut up, and then…I heard banging in my head and it drove me mad. I still had the gun in my hand, and then…Ace dropped down on the floor and blood started coming out. I don't know why, he just died."

Dad raised his eyebrows at me and then finally removed his hand from my face. He leaned back on the sofa and casually took a sip from his glass. I waited for his reply, but it seemed like forever before he answered.

I took a moment to glance around the room and the TV caught my attention. Some sort of action film was on where a car uncontrollably blew up after landing into a building. I found it quite stunning.

I got caught up too soon, however, as my adoration was disturbed by dad finally replying.

"Did I ever mention that guns are dangerous?" Dad's sudden answer was.

I stared at him.

"Well…they do _sound_ dangerous, dad."

"Was there…a certain _noise_ before you saw Ace drop…down…dead?" Dad's voice sounded so unsympathetic, his gravelly tone was now returning. It did not phase me.

I thought hard.

It then struck me like lightning. The loud bang had totally slipped my mind. I smiled at dad, feeling proud of myself for remembering.

"Yeah," I said as the smile drew on my face. "Yeah, there was. There was a bang." I paused for a few moments. My eyebrows then furrowed. "But I didn't know why it happened. I thought it came from my head."

Dad sniggered under his breath as he leaned towards me again, like a tiger hunting its prey. It almost looked like hunger was in his eyes. He tickled me under my chin, making me wriggle and punch his hand away. Dad put his arm around me again, still laughing, and I looked up at him, eager for his reply.

"You say that noise came from your head, huh?" he asked.

"I don't know, but that's what it felt like. I don't know."

"Hmm, you _are _your daddy's daughter, aren't you? You blame your mind for everything. No, honey, the truth is…you fired the gun, you shot the dog and he died. That's what happened. You see, guns put an end to something quickly. They end it with a loud…_bang_!" He smacked his hand loudly on the arm of the sofa to resemble the bang, laughing slightly. "That's why I only use them on _worthless_ people to get them out of the way, honey. You can't wait around on people like that. That's why I use a knife on people who _are_ worth it. But you don't need to know about that. What you need to know is…you killed the dog."

"No I didn't!" I retorted, as to me, it was the only response I knew how to do if I was accused of something. "How did I–?"

"Ah, ah, ah…calm down," Dad said, giving me a sharp look. "You say you didn't know what the gun was for…well, it's for defence. When people get mad they shoot people to shut them up. Sometimes they die, sometimes they just get badly injured, but…it silences them either way. Or…it makes them cry out a lot." We shared a chuckle. "In your case, you got the best thing. You obviously did it by accident, you went _crazy_ and you accidentally fired the gun and you shot Ace. _That's _how he died."

My heart felt like it stopped. I did nothing except hold my breath and look at dad, who still remained calm. My mind replayed the scene, my brain racked as I tried to figure out if dad was right, because, like I said, his stories are very outlandish. The tape rolled in my mind:

_I screamed, kicked the dog hard, who fumbles backwards. I clenched my fists, fingers wrapping around the handle, with the gun in my hand, as I watch the dog move out of the way._

_Suddenly, a huge bang erupts the flat and I saw the dog flop down in the middle of the hall._

_Everything went quiet._

Dad blinked at the lightbulb that wavered above my head.

I sat there very silently, head steering up at dad again. I wasn't quite sure what to say. The feeling of achievement that I had felt before crept back into me again.

I was so deep in thought I flinched when I felt dad stroke my face.

"Do you understand, Shaylee?" he asked, softly.

"In a way…" I replied. "So guns are used to kill people?"

"Kinda," Dad nodded his head. "Depends. They're used more to tell people to get back. Stand out of your way."

"Is that what Ace was barking at then?"

"Probably not, he most likely didn't know what it was either. He was just as clueless as you were. But now you know. _You shot him_."

"How do you know, dad?"

"There was no one else in the house, the door was locked and I know you like to explore, Shay, so who else could it have been? You had it in your hand when you were asleep. For a minute there, I thought you _did _know what it was. The way you were holding it, it was almost like you'd done it your _whole _life."

He winked at me as he burst into hysterical laughter.

I said nothing.

"I was close to getting rid of that mangy thing myself, anyway," Dad snickered. "But now…I don't have to! Because my little baby girl has done it instead!"

I managed to display a small smile. The situation was still attempting to sink into my brain. The thought of me actually killing the dog was very bizarre.

I had been angry many times, but I'd never been as enraged as I'd had been that afternoon, but that was only due to feeling my head start pounding for the first time. Like my heart had made its way up there from my ribcage. My head had pushed me so hard, until I felt I could actually kill someone.

And that was the first time I'd ever felt it.

"Dad?" I squeaked.

"Yes, pumpkin?"

"Dad…where is the dog now then?"

"Ah, that's the best part! You know how much you like campfires?"

I nodded keenly. I did love campfires. Dad kept piles and piles of wood in our little shed in the cramped back garden we had. I don't know why, but he said he got them so I could start a fire whenever I wanted because I loved them so much. Sometimes we sat by the fire together, with him telling me some of his amazing stories. Mom never ever joined us. It was strictly our father-daughter thing.

I found fire fascinating, the warm heat of it made me relaxed. I found the flames to be beautiful. Whenever there were fireworks exploding on special nights, I stared at them in awe too, but not like most of the other kids stared at them. I wouldn't go '_woah_' and gasp or even hide away like some of the more whiny kids, I'd giggle excitedly and imitate the explosions. I found that to be more beautiful than anything.

I would've given anything to have a campfire night right at that moment.

As dad finished his last sentence, he took another sip from the glass and sighed heavily as he finished his last gulp. His eyes then darted back to my beaming little face. He pulled me closer, where I nuzzled up happily, like nothing had happened.

"Well, daddy got a brilliant idea," he said, grinning. "You know…how Ace liked to bark a lot? Well…" Dad had to fight back his laughter, which got me started. "I thought, because he barked a lot…I thought he'd like to rot away with the things he loved the most." His lifted his eyebrows and whispered. "Bark."

"What?" I asked, confused, although I was still smiling.

"You know, bark, as in wood. Ace's grave is in the shed. He _was _a horrid dog, right?"

"Yeah!"

"And you know what happens to horrid creatures? They burn. Ace will make a nice addition to our campfires!"

We both burst into hysterical laughter.

Dad was a genius. The thought of that dog made me so mad, but now it was gone made an amazing rush through me. And it was then I realised, the sense of achievement I felt was now stronger than it had ever been. I felt really good at that moment. Life was just one big joke, after all, so it was nice to laugh about _something _for a change.

Dad said I could stay up, despite having school the next day, because mom wasn't home. I was _so _glad mom was still out. As far as I was concerned, she could stay out until tomorrow.

"I want you to see this," Dad said as he turned up the TV. "This is a great movie."

"Why?"

"Just watch, baby. You'll see why."

He moved my head so I looked at the television, but I still wriggled up to him. I'd never felt so safe and calm, especially after the odd conversation we just had.

Ten minutes past, and I ended up almost falling asleep again, but I was determined to stay awake and watch the TV. I wanted to see the purpose. It then displayed a scene were the bad guy, dressed in a long, brown coat and looked like a serious badass, was interrogating the good guy, a typical pretty boy whose acting was mediocre at best, in a car park. Although this was meant to be very dramatic scene, dad and I couldn't help laughing. I was laughing more at the one-liners the villain fired at the hero.

Then turned to me and said, "Watch this next part, now, honey." He'd obviously watched this a ridiculous amount of times.

I watched closely and the next shot revealed the bad guy take out a gun (one that looked very similar to dad's) from his pocket at hold it up against the pretty boy's neck. I gasped and my face lit up.

"It's a gun!" I cried, pointing a shaking finger at the blaring screen.

"That's right, princess!" Dad said. "I can't believe you haven't seen one on TV or anything. Are you _sure _you'd never seen one before? You hadn't even seen daddy carry one out of house before?"

"I'd seen you hold one, but I didn't know what it was or what it was for, still."

"Ah, so you thought they were just something I carried around for the hell of it?" Dad laughed.

"Well, I always forgot to ask you about it."

"No need anymore. You found out for yourself today, didn't you?"

We both giggled and continued watching the action on the TV, which I was surprised was still managing to work, it was so old. The two guys beat the hell out of one another, before the prissy guy managed to get the gun and then held it to the bad guy's face.

"Oh no!" I cried.

"Do you even know what's going to happen?"

Dad smirked at me. I knew he was trying to test my knowledge.

"He's going to shoot him, right? There's going to be a bang…?"

At that exact moment, the film showed a loud bang coming from the gun, followed by the bad guy yelling in pain and rolling around on the floor. His face was smeared in blood.

I looked at dad, who was beaming at me. My mouth was dropped open.

"See? I told you that's how it works. Fire the gun, _boom,_ the victim's screwed!"

"So I really _did _fire the gun, then?"

"Yes, yes, you did."

"But I didn't realise I did."

"You were angry, Shay. All sorts of things happen when you go crazy. Trust me, I _know_. You triggered it by accident."

"I…I must have done it when I was grabbing too tight, or something."

"It's nothing to worry about."

"So you're actually _happy_?"

"Of course I am. I do all the awesome things around here, so, it was nice to see you have a chance, my girl. I always said I didn't want to be the monster father _mine_ was, so…I promised when you were born, I'd let you do what you like, you'd learn to defend yourself and be a good girl, because being weak and defenceless in a world where everything is corrupted and _flawed _is no good. But it seems, you're learning fast already, Shay. I do all this stuff to show how pathetic people really are these days, and to provide for you and your mother of course. Besides, that dog was driving me nuts, so…you did me a favour anyway!"

He winked at me, before pinning me down on my back and tickling every inch of me. I squealed with laughter, yelling and kicking my feet in the air, almost hitting dad in the face. I blew a raspberry at him as he flinched away.

"Hey! You little monkey!" he laughed, as he begin to tickle me.

I squirmed around like a bug that had just been crushed under a finger, trying to push him off me, but he carried on tickling me relentlessly. I almost fell off the sofa with a playful scream, but dad caught me by my shoulder and pulled me back into his arms.

Our laughs became quieter as we didn't dare move from where we were.

"I'm so glad you're not angry, daddy," my little voice said, gratefully.

"Why would I be? I can _never _hold a grudge with you, darlin'," Dad replied, stroking my hair. "Like I've said to you before, you're the only thing that keeps me a little bit sane these days."

At that moment, we both heard the door slam hard. I heard someone taking their shoes off and making lots of wordless slurs at the door.

"Shaylee?!" it called.

"It's mom," I hissed to dad.

"Oh, god, here we go," Dad mumbled.

"Shaylee?"

I heard her knocking on my bedroom door. If I was asleep, she would've just woke me up. Brilliant logic there, mother.

"In here," I called to her, as I sat crossed-legged on the sofa, with dad next to me. He took the glass and stood up with a groan, ready to take it back into the kitchen.

Mom burst into the room. She was drenched due to the rain outside, her clothes glued to pale skin, her cheeks bright red and her hair was all over the place. I had to hold myself back from laughing.

She looked horrified when she saw us both. Her mouth gaped open at dad, who just simply fired a questionable look at her.

"Jack!" she cried. "What..? Where have you _been_?!"

"Been home for over two hours, woman," he answered.

"And you didn't bother to call? What were you _doing _out there? I've been searching for hours!"

"If you were really that worried you would have called me, Diana."

It was amazing how dad remained so calm, but judging by his face I knew he could explode at any moment. I prepared myself for any sudden outburst from either of them.

Mom then fixed her eyes at me, who had my arms folded, not giving a care in the world. I was used to this by now.

I'd learnt to control myself and hold myself back from crying by now. I had realised mom wasn't worth crying over.

"Why are you still up, young lady?" she garbled.

"Dad said I could."

"Jack!"

"Keep your hair on, Di, we were just watching a movie, weren't we, Shay?"

I nodded.

Mom sighed and darted around to look at the action movie still playing on screen. Two seconds later, she marched over to the remote on the arm of the sofa, pushing dad out of the way and turned it off with the remote.

"You didn't think to watch a cartoon, no? Why are you showing her that crap, Jack?!"

"Why did you allow me to _own_ that crap, then, Di? Hmm?"

"You probably stole that shit anyway!"

Dad burst into laughter.

"Aw, you know me too well, honey."

I couldn't help but laugh at dad's jokes. Mom then glared back at me.

"And what's that mess all over the carpet in the hallway?" she demanded.

My heart stopped.

"I spilt a drink before." Dad came to my rescue. "I had some of your wine."

"You don't like wine, Jack."

"Since when?"

Mom gave up too easily and folded her arms. I bit my tongue to prevent the laughter.

"How thoughtful of you to clean it up," Mom complained.

"Oh, it's no problem, sweetie," Dad replied.

Then, the shrill laugh unexpectedly slipped off my tongue. Dad laughed with me, but mom was, as usual, unamused.

Mom then glared at me and ordered, "Shaylee, to bed. Now." I refused to move. "_Now_."

"Shaylee…" Dad beckoned me with his outstretched arms. "Come on." I reluctantly walked up to him and he hugged me. "Do what your mom says."

"But daddy–"

"Mommy and I need to chat."

He gave me reassuring smile and a wink, so I knew it was all okay.

"Okay," I said, reluctantly, hugging him back.

"Night, sweetheart."

"Night, daddy."

"Night, Shaylee," Mom called after me.

I didn't answer, and slammed the door behind me.

I journeyed to my room, throwing my dressing gown to the floor and made the room pitch black. I snuggled myself into bed, with my drawing pad on the end, smiling up at me.

I was expecting to fall asleep instantly, but I was very wrong. Mom was so horrible, telling me to go to bed and then she continues to yell at dad, blatantly keeping me awake. She probably thought I couldn't hear her. But I could hear both of them. Every word.

"I've been so worried, Jack," she blabbered on. "You can't keep doing this! Just…just going out and doing whatever things you and your scumbag friends get up to! Just leaving me here to worry whether you're going to go to get locked up every day! I tell you this every single day of my life and I'm sick of it! I shouldn't have to stay here and–"

"And what do _you_ all day, Diana?" I heard dad cut in. "Just sitting here on your ass, drinking all day…"

"I do _not_, I try every day to–"

"Don't stand there and lie to me, all you care about is the next bottle of vodka. You say you're going to go out and try and get a job every day, yet, every day I keep having…to tell you…that all you do is sit on your ass drinking instead. Does Shaylee deserve a mother like that?"

My heart smiled because dad was sticking up for me. He was always there with the uncomfortable truth.

"Do you think Shaylee deserves a father who's constantly getting chased by the police?!" Mom argued. "And is proud of it, you know."

"You think I'm _proud_ of the fact I'm risking everything day in, day out to provide for you two?!" Dad now had a rougher edge to his voice, as he was clearly offended. "Because you don't wanna get off your ass and find a job? Huh?"

"Whatever! Does she deserve a father who's basically nothing but scum?!"

"Nothing but scum? Huh, I least I _care _about that little girl. I would give my _life _for that little girl in there. No matter what she's growing up into, I adore her! But you don't, do you, Diana?"

"Of course I care about her! I'm her mother!"

"No! Shut up and let me finish!"

Dad's dangerous growl was coming back again as his anger grew and grew.

"Jack, calm down…I didn't mean…"

"Oh no, you _mean _to push my buttons, don't you, Di? _Huh_? You stand there trying to argue with me when you _know _I'm right."

"Why should I stand here and listen to you talk bullshit, Jack? You make out _I'm _the bad one here, when it's actually _you_ who–"

That's when I heard a painful backhand, with mom's body slamming against the door. I pinned my covers close to me, as I began to hear mom constantly whimpering dad's name, dad roaring the most terrible words, calling her the most awful names, all accompanied by crashing against the wall. I could faintly hear dad's strong hand beat her into reality.

"Jack, stop it! _Stop it_!"

"Don't like the truth, _huh_?!"

Then I heard mom start to cry.

"Look at me," I heard dad say, in a terrible threatening voice.

"Jack…please…"

"Shut _up_, you dirty little whore," he snarled. "You trying to say I'm the bad parent here? I may go out and mess up justice, you know, and I don't give a _fuck _if I do or not, I couldn't care less…but like I said, at least I _care _about _our _daughter! You _don't_ care about her. You don't spend _any _time with her, all you do is yell at her, boss her around, make her feel like she's a horrible child. You make her unhappy. You _know _it's the truth. She's come crying to me because all she wants is her mom like every other little girl at her school! I've barley seen you guys hug! No wonder she's getting into trouble at school. You're the only example of a woman she's had! Give me a reason to believe you deserve her, I _beg _of you."

There was a long silence. I reckoned it was mom trying to think of a good reply.

I was smiling wide, a little tear starting spouting from my eye. I loved dad so much.

"You…you need to look at _yourself_!" Mom gasped. "You're not exactly…a good role model either, are you, Jack? All this violence and crime, it's not _right_! It's not _you_, Jack!"

"I'm only violent to people who deserve it," Dad snapped, ignoring the comments about crime. "Shaylee doesn't deserve that. _You_ on the other hand…"

"I have been nothing but good to you! And all we do is argue about the same things every fucking night!"

"Nothing but good to me?!" Dad's laughter rung throughout the house. "Don't...don't make me _laugh_, darling!"

"Don't you _darling _me!"

"Ooh, okay, is _bitch _better?!" Dad continued cackling.

"Shut _up_!" Mom sobbed over his laughter. "Please! Shut _up_! I can't _deal_ with this anymore! Get off me…_please_…"

"Can't handle me, honey? Then why don't you _leave_? Huh? Leave me and Shay alone!"

"Over my dead body! Why would I leave her on her own with a violent criminal of a father?"

"Ooh, violent criminal am I?"

"_Yes_! Yes you are!"

"Says the _alcoholic_. Did you go to the bar today while searching for me at all today, hmm? Get distracted, did you?"

I then heard a huge thump and then I heard the second round of beating, which only lasted for a few seconds, but mom's tears were now louder, even more so due to the alcoholic.

"You wanna know what happened today, bitch?" Dad asked her, now suddenly calm, but out of breath.

Mom just continued to throw up her tears.

My heart pounded. I'd be so dead if mom found out what had happened today.

"Come here then." Mom groaned and I imagined she was struggling to get out dad's grasp. "So I came in today, from the freezing cold," Dad began his story. "Shaylee had fallen asleep, so I put her to bed–"

"But she–"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Dad yelled. "Anyway, long story short, I went off a bit mad. The dog went nuts at me. I got out my little gun and _bang_. Ace got scared and he ran into the garden, so I followed him. He hid in the shed, which for some reason was unlocked, and he wouldn't shut up, so I turned to him and said, _'Why so serious, you stupid mutt?_' If you wanna know what happened you should check the shed. But listen, don't be so mad when you see it. Lighten up for once, Diana."

"What have you done?"

I didn't hear another word after that.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard dad finish his story. He'd lied to get me out of trouble! I wondered if this was all part of a plan. Dad always had some sort of plan. He loved to make mom mad, he told me he did. He said he loved to see her crazy and hated it when she was calm. I don't understand why exactly. I wondered if he didn't want mom to see any of my _really _bad ways (like what happened that day) until the time was right, and when I did, it would eventually drive her so mad she'd want nothing more to do with me, so then I could only be with dad forever, which was perfect in my books. This is what I thought at the time, and if that was the idea, I was willing to play along in daddy's little game.

Dad obviously then let her go, and I heard mom run out the back door, slamming it hard. I heard the jiggling of keys and then the door locked.

About two minutes went by, and I heard nothing but distant yelling. It wasn't loud enough to mess with my head and keep we awake, so I decided to close my eyes.

After about another minute, my door started to creep open very slightly, making me grab my covers to protect myself.

It was only dad, who was now wearing his pyjamas and his frizzy hair was now even messier. I smiled at him when I saw his face peep through the gap.

"Hi, daddy."

"You okay, princess?" I nodded. "Just ignore with what happened just now. Did mom scare you?"

I shook my head vigorously.

"Did…_I_ scare you?"

I gulped.

"No," I said, softly.

"Huh, good girl. I've dealt with your mom anyway. Since she loved that flaming mutt so much, I thought I'd leave her out there with him tonight."

We both giggled quietly. I covered my mouth, holding back the laughter.

"Just ignore the bitch howling, honey," Dad said, still giggling. "It's what she does best, after all."

"Okay," My voice then cracked a little bit as I felt my heart beat fast. "Thank you, dad."

"What for?"

He walked in and kneeled beside my bed.

"For sticking up for me."

"Hey, that's my job, isn't it?"

He then did something he rarely does. Very gently, he kissed my forehead before pulling the covers over me more.

"Pleasant dreams, my number one girl," he said, standing up and leaving.

"Night, night, dad."

He shut the door behind him, and as I nestled into my dreams, the scary thoughts of what happened that day faded away from my mind. They had sunk in now.

I felt I was not a little girl anymore. And I loved it.


	4. Chase The Morning

_**I introduce a character here who is very important in the story. **__**Hope you guys enjoy. :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Chase The Morning**

I was woken up at 8:30 the next morning by dad banging enthusiastically on my door and calling, "Oh, _Shaylee_! Wake up! You have a morning of hell ahead!"

He couldn't have been more right. School.

The night before had been so hectic that I'd forgotten to put my pyjamas on to go to bed. I woke up still in my black jumper and joggers. When I stepped into the hallway, rubbing my eyes and straightening my hair that looked like a lion's mane, even our dim light blinded me. I glanced down at the carpet to see if Ace had still left his mark there. Or rather, if my mark was still left there. It was much fainter now, though I could still see it. Dad had obviously tried to clean it up, but with his mind he's so careless at stuff like that.

I heard dad fidgeting in his room. I plodded in like a zombie, and flopped onto mom and dad's bed. Dad was sorting out his clothes in the wardrobe and didn't even turn around when I slumped on the bed. Curled up in a ball, I just looked at him, still in his night clothes with his hair perfectly in shape, despite it not being brushed.

After a few moments, dad said, "Mornin', sunshine."

He still did not turn around to face me, but I didn't mind.

"Morning," I replied, my voice monotone.

"Sounds like someone didn't sleep so much last night, huh?" he chuckled.

"Nah, not with mom yelling all night long."

Dad spluttered into raucous laughter as he continued carefully filing his clothes. It was then I remembered what I found from the day before. I crawled forward and leaned over to see if the face-paint was still present, and it was, still perfectly piled up at the bottom. I curiously looked at dad, my face lighting up when I saw him file through the colourful suit and ties I noticed yesterday.

"Dad?" I spluttered, without thinking.

"Yes?"

I paused for a few moments as I did my silly little habit of fiddling with my clothes again.

"What, Shay?" Dad asked again.

I took a deep breath. "Dad…why…I mean - what's that, under there?"

That's when dad finally whirled around and looked at me with his droopy brown eyes. His face was emotionless, but he kneeled down slowly and lifted up one of the pots of face-paint.

"You mean this?" he asked, a smile suddenly forming on his lips.

"Yeah, what is that? I found some of that yesterday, too."

"Ahh, nosey, aren't we, huh?" I didn't move as dad kneeled down where he was, but unusually he didn't come close to me this time. "Uhh, this is…it's face paint, Shaylee, didn't you read the label?" Dad laughed.

"Yes, I know that," I said, as a cracked a smile and half a giggle. "But what do have that for? You never wear anything on your face, dad."

"No…no I don't, you're right." Dad spoke very carefully now, his diction was spitting at me. He sighed and then stared at me, like he was giving me a command. "If you must know, daddy's going through, ah…I don't know…some sort of change."

That made my heart skip a beat. "What…What do you mean?"

"I don't know, like…I don't know – people change. When you grow up, you'll understand better. I'm getting bigger ideas, I'm on a roll and I feel like I can't stop. But you know what's so frustrating?" He paused as he raised his eyebrows at me. "Whenever I go to Gotham City, I get stopped all the time by those silly little people known as the, ah…cops…and they know everyone in this town, they have records. They can write my name down and _boom_…'Jack Napier, another crime.' That's why I'm getting the idea to wear disguises. If they don't know who I am, they can't catch me out. You see, Shaylee?"

"Yeah," I said, beaming.

I admired dad's cleverness very much. He was sneaky, but clever, and I thought that was brilliant. I wondered why he'd never told me all this before, though. He obviously hadn't been carrying this out for long, otherwise I would have noticed.

"Anyway, you'll understand more when you grow up, little girl," he said as he winked at me and rose to his feet again. He turned back around to sort out his clothes. "Right, Shay, you go get yourself some breakfast, get ready and then you can go off for a nice day of hell," Dad laughed. I groaned and gradually dragged myself off the bed. Just before I left the room, however, I felt dad touch my shoulder, making me naturally dart my eyes on his. "Don't tell your mother, about this, though," he whispered.

"Of course I won't," I said, obediently.

"Good girl. She'll just scream at me and tell me….I need to see a doctor, which I don't. I'm _perfectly fine_. Just fine. I'm doing what I need to do." He then leaned in closer to me, grinning. "She's the one who needs help, anyway, doesn't she? Huh? All that drinking." Then his smile faded as he touched my face, lightly. "What she's doing, Shaylee…that stuff she takes, that's _much _worse than your old man nicking something. Well, that's how I see it. Don't ever touch that stuff, it's taken over your mom's head, it's taken over her _life_."

"I know," I said, a little sadly.

There was a slight pause as dad moved away.

"Off you go then, clever clogs," he said, giving me a light nudge.

I did what he said and headed into the kitchen area. Then I carried out what I usually did every morning: made myself some cereal, with milk overflowing the bowl (that's the way I liked it) and then sat neatly in front of the television in the sitting room, and turning on the news. Yes, that's right, the news. I couldn't be doing with cartoons and kids' shows at that time. They all bored me to tears because they're "educational." Don't kids have enough education? If a kids' show wasn't educational, then they were usually so over the top or feature one of those silly boybands every girl at my school talks about. I'd much rather watch the news and witness what everyone's going through in Gotham. It gave me more of an insight to what dad does in that stupid city, especially if there was a story about a bank robbery or a shop burglary or something. From a young age, I was always fascinated by stories like this. My weirdness would make me examine the faces of all these depressed citizens very closely. Sometimes I laughed because they looked so silly, other times I would scoff and sarcastically respond to their desperate cries on the news, like, "We are absolutely _heartbroken_."

Dad was hardly ever on the news, strangely enough. I thought maybe because he did it all the time and people would be so bored of seeing him on the TV. Like I've said, he hardly ever got caught, which proves how dreadful the police in Gotham City actually are. They didn't even bother to come and find him. Dad was very smart, living here in the outskirts of Gotham instead of the actual city itself.

I was gravely disappointed when there was nothing like that on the news that morning. I don't even remember what was on there, but it certainly didn't keep my interest. I gulped down my cereal in seconds flat, after creating waves in it with my spoon and slugged down all the milk like I was a starving child. I _was _starving half the time, because mom hardly ever shopped to get food for us and if she did, she bought some of that horrible alcohol. Dad had to get food for me half the time and I because I was so hungry I never cared if it was stolen or not. I didn't believe he stole _everything_, we get rent money, ever since mom quit her studies and had me.

After I finished, I sat staring at the hallway through the open door for ages, with an empty bowl in front of me. I may have been thinking back to the strange situation the day before again, but I can't remember. Dad then came out of his bedroom, but he wasn't wearing one of his pretty suits, which slightly disappointed me. He looked like his typical self, with his floppy hair in front of his face. He came out like a teacher observing a class searching for trouble, walking very carefully. I saw him put something in his pocket, but I couldn't make out what it was. I hadn't noticed but I was gazing at him, not scared, but sort of lovingly.

That's when he caught me staring. "What's the matter, Shaylee?"

I flinched, quickly answering, "Nothing. Nothing."

"Is there something weird on me, hmm?"

"No. No. You look great."

Dad smiled at me before heading into the bathroom and locking it behind him. That's when I reluctantly got up and took my bowl back into the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, I heard a loud thump on the window, making me jump a mile.

"Shaylee!"

Oh damn it. I'd forgotten mom was still out there.

I saw her stood up and leaning on the window, looking absolutely awful. I was disappointed it wasn't raining outside. I frowned at her as she desperately banged on the window.

"Let me in, right now!" she shouted. Ignoring her, I raised my head to look past her, to notice the shed door wide open. I didn't see our poor dog in there, leaving me slightly disappointed again. I looked back at mom who was crying hysterically, but I just raised my eyebrows at her. She wasn't worth anything. "Shaylee! Please…" she whimpered. "Let me in. Right NOW!"

"I don't know where the key is," I lied.

"What?"

I didn't want to argue with her, because I knew I'd get nowhere. So with a little grin, I walked away from the window, hearing the sound of mom pounding the window and her muffled screaming behind me. I decided to be cheeky right then, I couldn't help it.

I could still hear her as I stood outside the bathroom door.

"Daddy?" I called, purposely making my voice sound childish.

Dad sighed. "What do you want, Shaylee?"

"Mom…mommy's shouting at me again because I won't get the key to let her in," I replied, trying to sound sweet and innocent.

"Oh, she wants to come inside, does she?" Dad chuckled. "Oh, well…I think she needs, ah, just a…_bit_ more time to reflect on her behaviour." He started laughing. "I'll let her in when I'm finished in here, Shay, you get ready. It's not _your _responsibility after all, is it?"

"Thanks, daddy!" I giggled, as I skipped back into my tiny bedroom.

I got ready for school in two minutes flat, this time choosing my top that was patterned with a large diamond skull, which I got for my birthday that year from dad. I wore my favourite pair of black jeans. I made my way to the sitting room, where mom's stuff was on her dressing table, and I used her brush to make my hair look half decent. I straightened my clothes out, before putting my hair in a thick ponytail, using one of mom's bobbles. She hated me using her stuff, but if she got off her ass and actually got things for me to do it myself she wouldn't need to complain. She couldn't exactly stop me at that point anyway.

I then waited for a few, long moments, staring at myself in the mirror.

"Oh, what is your life Shaylee Jane?" I sighed.

It's a shame that reflections can't reply.

I just heard mom's muffled shouting and dad messing with things in the bathroom. I sighed heavily, before returning to my room and collecting most of my stuff, putting my drawing pad neatly in my backpack first of all along with my best pens. I didn't go anywhere without them. That would be a crime.

Drawing and creating my own worlds were the only things that kept me concentrated. The one, small thing that allowed me to set my mind free from all the banging inside my poor little head. I often doodled when dad was out and mom was drowning in a bottle in the next room. Art was the only lesson I truly loved in school. Funny thing, everyone was suddenly my best friend when we were in an art lesson.

No one was my best friend any other time, though.

But I didn't care. I liked being alone. I only liked being around people who were interested in the same things as me, which was no one. I guess that made me a little sad, but the people who didn't understand me didn't help at all.

I was a very strange young child. I was quiet, but if someone bothered me and pushed my buttons, I would get a surge of anger and then…well, you were in trouble. My mind tells me I have to yell, because I just want everything to shut up. It tells me to fight back. I can't control myself. The only person who can make me calm is dad.

I was what you'd consider to be a "tomboy", but to be honest, I still liked girly things. Well, not _all _girly things, but I liked to glam up now and then, especially when I got older. I hated all those pretty colours that most of the other girls wore, though. I loved to wear black and dark colours. I was so desperate to dye my hair like the older girls did and look ridiculously cool, but mom wouldn't let me. Of course. Dad said he'd let me do it when I was older. Right now my hair is blonde, with a tinge of black and red at the ends. I think it looks super trendy. But alas, as an eight-year-old, I was stuck with mom's boring, light brown hair, which was a pain to tie up because of its thickness.

I didn't like _all _"boyish" things. I _hated_ sports because of my laziness and would never even try in sports class, but I _loved _all the crime-fighting stories on the news. It was _very _uncanny. Boys tend to have gross-out humour, which wasn't my sense of humour _at all_. I shared the same sense of humour as dad, which was…strange. I can't really say, I tended to laugh at things that weren't funny to normal people.

But I wasn't normal, and I knew it. I asked dad if my anger issues was a common thing, and he told me that only special children have that.

I didn't consider myself to be special at all.

School was no big deal to me, apart from Art class. The kids were no big deal to me either. They were all annoying hypocrites, which dad said you find _everywhere_. I didn't care about any of them, because they didn't even give me the time of day. Just because I'm different, I'm considered an outcast. Outcasts are the _best_. So why should I bother with them?

I'll shut up about it now. You get the idea, don't you?

So once I was prepared, I grabbed my backpack and headed into the hall, where dad had still not come out of the bathroom. I glanced into the kitchen, where mom's face had gone from the window, but I still heard her crying riotously.

The clock said 9:15. Damn it!

"_Dad_!" I called. I heard him moving in the bathroom, but he did not answer. "Dad!"

The door unlocked and dad entered the hallway, his shoulders hunched and was looking very carefully to where he stepped. He rubbed his eyes and then leaned on the wall.

"What?" he asked.

"I have to go," I replied, pointing at the clock.

Dad looked slowly up at the clock. "Ahh, yes. Aw, poor you." He came over and ruffled my hair, which I immediately straightened. Dad giggled slightly as he looked over into the kitchen. "God, that woman, honestly. She…never…shuts _up_," he grumbled. He then turned to me, smiling, showing me his unclean teeth. "Go on then, off you go, Shay, while I'll deal with the…commotion outside."

"Will you be in when I come home?" I asked, hoping and praying.

"Ahh, I might be." Dad kneeled down in front of me when he saw my disappointed face. "Look," he whispered, "if you want, I'll be home for when you finish school."

"Really?" I beamed at him.

"If you want."

I suddenly leaped on him without thinking. "Thanks, dad!"

"Hey, hey, hey, watch it…" he said, gently pushing me off him. "It's okay, you know."

"Sorry. Okay, well, I'll see you later."

"Bye, baby, try and have a good day if it's even _possible_!" Dad made his way into the kitchen.

"Oh, I'll try," I laughed, as I walked out the front door and into the grey little street I lived in.

The walk to school takes ten minutes. It's always the longest ten minutes of the day. I would walk past the same boring things I did every morning: the street of the block of flats we lived in and then a shortcut through a small field, which had a million silly stories attached to it. Apparently some ghost lives in the bushes and comes out at night and haunts Lucy Douglas's mom. See what I mean? _This _is how silly the kids were at my school. Believing such nonsense. I did believe, however, that many crazy things happened there. I'm not sure what, but crazy things happen _everywhere_.

My elementary school was called Little Hill Elementary. In Gotham Town, 'Little Hill' was the name for every school, the elementary, middle and high school. The elementary school was on the other side of the grey town, and it was shabby place, with rusty walls and two blocks that made up the entire place. The teachers were okay at best, you got your ones you could push around easily, the ones that went mad over the slightest things, and of course you got the teachers that spoke in that dreary monotone voice.

I arrived five minutes late for the first lesson. Oh, fantastic.

I managed to get to class without any other teachers passing me in the corridor, because I was super sneaky like that. Everyone stared at me when I entered the classroom, once again looking at me in disgust, as if I had interrupted something important. How amusing.

I walked in as if nothing was a big deal, and slumped in my chair, which was back far across the room, hardly near anyone else. I chucked my bag under the table and leaned forward with my arms folded, raising my eyebrows at my teacher, Miss Woodville, but we all called her Psycho Woodville. I longed for the day someone would actually call her that to her face.

"Nice of you to join us, Shaylee," she said. Some of the kids sniggered at me, while the geeks looked at me, impatiently.

I decided to wind her up as I couldn't be doing with her that day.

"Nice to be here, Miss Woodville," I said, purposely making myself sound sarcastic.

She shook her head while some of the popular girls still sneered at me. I just gave them a villainous glare, attempting to be intimidating.

"Kayley, Frankie, quiet please," Psycho Woodville snapped at two of the irritating girls in my class. Woodville then looked back at me. "So why are you late, Shaylee?"

"I had problems this morning, Miss Woodville," I said, sweetly.

"Problems? Problems big enough for you to be late once again to my first lesson?"

"Yes, actually."

That shut her up. It made the whole class shut up. Just how I like it.

Once Psycho Woodville knew she'd lost the argument, she continued the highly tedious English lesson. It wasn't long before the class were given tasks to do, but I could barely focus on anything. I spent most of the lesson with my head on the desk, fiddling with my special pen. Woodville didn't even come over to help me because she was too busy helping the nerdy kids.

I had too much on my mind to concentrate on English work. I couldn't stop thinking about mom and dad. How mom drank every day. She probably only wanted to come in that morning to gulp down the next drink. She was probably doing that right at that moment. I remembered what dad had done the day before, how he stuck up for me, despite being enraged with mom. Oh god. The anger was unbearable. No. No more anger, _please_. My mind traced back to that moment where my horror was unleashed. My heart was racing, and my mouth became dry as the memories overflowed my mind. I remembered my horrific shrieking, the dog barking and that loud bang.

_Bang_.

The memory hit me like a bullet, and I bashed my head hard against the desk.

This finally got _someone's _attention.

"Shaylee, are you alright?" asked Adam, the kid nearest to me.

My head shot up at him. "Yeah, yeah…I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I moved my head directly away from him when I heard my voice begin to shake. "Yeah."

At that moment, I heard Woodville's teacher voice come from the other side of the room.

"Is there a problem, Shaylee?" she asked.

I hadn't noticed but I'd started crying. I felt a tear stream down and I quickly flicked it away, putting my head in my arms again so no one could see me. I felt so embarrassed when I cried, especially now as the room went quiet.

"Shaylee?" Miss Woodville's voice drew nearer.

"I'm fine," I mumbled into my arms.

I then felt Woodville tower above me. I didn't dare look at her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, touching my elbow. I flinched sharply and let out a loud sniffle, much to my embarrassment. "Would you like to be excused for a few moments?" Woodville's voice the soundest the nicest it had ever been. That's when I finally looked at her, furiously wiping my eyes. I hadn't even got up and moved, but I was breathing heavily. "Shaylee, would you like to go outside to calm yourself down for a moment?" she asked again.

I couldn't believe my luck.

"Yes, Miss Woodville," I said, as I hurriedly stood up, grabbing my bag.

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

"No!" I shouted, loudly, startling her. I saw some people in the class jump, others just watched with major interest. I had to stop myself from bringing out the monster, so I took a deep breath as I started walking towards the door. "I mean…I'd rather be one my own," I said as calmly as possible as I walked out of the classroom, shutting the door behind me.

I started speed-walking down the colourful corridors. I walked and walked until I found myself running. I ran until I felt my heart pumping out of my chest, my legs were almost aching and my bag was jumping on my back. Getting to the end of the corridor seemed like a lifetime, but when I finally reached there, I fell to my knees and allowed the tears to continue pouring out of my eyes. It sounds strange, but, I just cried. I didn't whimper. I didn't make a sound apart occasionally taking a deep breath, almost like I was meditating.

It was one of those rare times I had to cry to let all the anger and frustration out. I stained my watery eyes as I traced the ceiling. With my head leaning against the crusty wall, I sat just sat there for what seemed like an eternity. I tried to think back to happy memories, cheerful memories of dad spoiling me.

My biggest fear of someone catching me came true when I saw I figure walking down the other corridor which lead to the one I was at the end of. I hastily stood up and then took a closer look at the person walking in towards me. They were too short to be a teacher, but they were taller than me. They weren't walking very quickly, and as they came nearer, I saw that they were looking around the corridor desperately. When I saw it was a boy, I turned my face away to look at the floor, as I slid down the wall again.

He eventually walked down to where I was sitting, shuffling his feet around when he saw me. I still didn't want to look up at him, not while I was in such a state. I didn't recognise him anyway, he certainly didn't look like a boy in one of my classes. To my disappointment, he stopped in his tracks and stood above me. From the corner of my teary eye I could see him staring at me, awkwardly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I am…" I replied, not looking up.

He shuffled his feet around more, irritatingly tapping his feet. The sound soon grated on me, and I started to get annoyed.

"What do you want?" I snapped, finally looking at him.

To my surprise, he wasn't taken aback. I eyed him up and down, carefully. I was very cautious of new people. Their presence just triggered how I acted towards them, which could sometimes be very ugly indeed if I didn't feel positivity. But then again, when was I ever positive. Not very much.

The boy looked older than me. He had floppy black hair, with unusual green eyes, and his fashion sense was scarily identical to mine, which flickered my interest. His face was long, with bushy eyebrows, but his persona yelled out mischief. I could always get a sense of what someone was like very quickly, immediately telling me how to act around a person. In his hand, he firmly gripped a creased piece of paper.

"I'm trying to find my first class," he explained.

"And you _don't _know where all the classes are by now?"

"This is my first day. I-I'm new here."

No wonder I didn't recognise him. I did a half laugh, folding my arms and I leaning my head against the wall.

"And no one's even bothered to escort you?" I sounded shocked but I knew I shouldn't be. The service at that school was awful.

"No," he replied in his monotone voice. "Mr…uh, what's the principal's name again?"

I suddenly beamed. "Mr. Useless?" I said.

I was so relieved when he started laughing. I laughed along with him, feeling randomly happy all of a sudden.

"You mean Mr. Boyd," I corrected myself, still giggling.

"Yeah him," the boy said. "He told me to go this way, and he gave me a note. See? But it's not helping me."

"Let me see." I stood up and practically snatched the thing off him. I read the note which said something about Mrs. Dresden being his teacher. That's when I knew. She taught the seventh grade, so I knew now that he was older than me. "Ah, you have Mrs. Dresden, you're in the wrong corridor, my friend." I flipped the note back into his face, but he didn't flinch. He actually looked kind of fascinated. I wasn't sure why, maybe it was my weird vocabulary for an eight-year-old.

I wasn't sure how to feel. This was one of the rare times a kid had actually been cool and sort of nice to me.

"Will you show me?" he asked, sort of awkwardly. "I don't know…the way, or anything."

I would never usually in my right mind help another kid out with anything, but I weirdly felt so friendly right then that I decided to try and be helpful for once in my crazy life.

"Sure," I replied, although I couldn't believe I just said it.

"Thank you so much," he said, gratefully.

So I directed him to the right corridor, which was the other side of the school (I had _no _idea how he'd not found his way there). I walk pretty fast, so he had trouble following me. I thought this was brilliant, a chance to get a few minutes out of such a boring class.

It took a while for him to strike up a conversation.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied. I'd completely forgotten I'd broke down crying in class. That horrible feeling had completely vanished from me.

He paused for a moment, so I looked at him, waiting for him to say something. I _hated _starting conversations.

"So, uh…what's this school like, then?" he asked, flipping his hair back. His voice was surprisingly deep for his age.

"I hate it," I said, making an expression of disgust. "What made you come to this dump?"

"Well, me and mom moved here a few weeks ago, so…"

"You came to _Gotham Town_? Why didn't you move to the city?"

"I don't know, but I hate it here already."

"Me too. All the kids here annoy me, it'll take you a while to get used to them. I've begged my mom to move to Gotham Elementary in Gotham City but she won't let me."

"Why?"

"I don't know, because she's awkward."

Before we knew it we were in the right corridor and outside Mrs. Dresden's classroom, the second door on the left.

"Here it is," I said, lifting my hand to the door, giving it a little display.

I looked at him, expecting him to walk in, but instead he looked down at the floor and started shuffling his feet again. My annoyed sigh made him pipe up.

"Do I just go in, then?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," I replied, laughing slightly. "You're not scared, are you?"

"No," he cut in, sharply.

"Go on then." I nodded my head towards the door, giving him a slight smirk.

He stood there stiff, until he jumped a mile when the door opened, revealing Mrs. Dresden, looking like the impatient cow she frequently was. He moved further to the side, almost out of her vision.

"_Hi_, Mrs. Dresden," I said, sweetly.

The boy sniggered when he heard me do my silly voice.

"Miss Napier," she screeched in her voice which sounded like nails being scraped on a blackboard. Hearing her ridiculous voice made us both hold back the laughter again. "Why are you out of class? What's with all the noise? You're disturbing my class."

"But Miss Woodville said I could be excused," I replied. I purposely acted silly, I couldn't help it. I fluttered my eyelashes and put my hands behind my back, pretending to act like a well-behaved schoolgirl, something I refused to be.

"Do you have a note?" she asked, sternly.

"No," I said, like it was obvious.

"Then you have no proof you can be out of lesson time."

"But she _did _say that."

"Go back to your lesson please, Miss Napier." She pointed her finger down the corridor like a pistol.

"But, Miss…"

"Back to class!"

"But, Miss, I have the new boy, here, I showed him to his class because he got lost."

I smirked at her, as I pulled him closer by his shirt, so she could see him clearly. He almost fell over because I yanked him so hard. Dresden looked completely flustered. Well, it _was _me who had done a favour, after all. It was something I _never _did.

"Oh, well," she said, putting her hand on her hip. "In that case, you better come in then. Chase Delancey, is it?"

"Yeah," he answered, still struggling not to burst into laughter. I put my hand over my mouth and scrunched up my face as I spluttered giggles into my hand.

"Yes, yes, I've been expecting you to be here," Mrs. Dresden said, as she stepped back to let him in. "Come in."

Chase stepped into the doorway before turning back to me and smiling.

"Thank you…uh…" he began, but his voice trailed off as he looked at me, uncertainly. I knew exactly what he wanted.

"Shaylee," I replied.

"Thanks, Shaylee."

"Okay, back to class with you, Miss Napier," Mrs. Dresden snapped at me.

"Okay, chill out."

"Mind your attitude, young lady!"

"Bye, Mrs. Dresden," I giggled, pleasantly, before quickly walking away again. As soon as I turned the corner, and heard her classroom door shut, I burst out into hysterical laughter. Her voice just cracked me up. My laughter echoed beautifully in the corridors as I headed back to Miss Woodville's room.

I entered the classroom still chuckling to myself. Once again I was stared at, and some of the other girls started giggling too. They weren't laughing _with_ me, but I couldn't care less.

"Calmed down, have you, Shaylee?" Miss Woodville asked, glaring at me to be quiet. I didn't answer her, but instead just replied with a smirk. I was sick of people asking if I was okay. Luckily, she didn't bother me for the rest of the lesson.

I saw Chase again on the lunch break, whilst I was getting lunch in the canteen. He was sitting by himself, on the table in the farthest corner. He wasn't eating, but instead was absorbed in a drawing he was creating in his pad. I held my tray of food, staring at him in wonder. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. That vision of him sitting there, totally immersed in his drawing, still remains with me to this day. I'm grateful I have some beautiful visions of my past lingering in my head.

I was so busy looking at him that I didn't notice I was standing in someone's way. To my horror, it was one of the girls from my class, that cow Kayley.

"Hey, Napier, move it, will ya?!" she yelled, as she pushed me aside. I almost knocked over my food. She wasn't worth replying to, so I just sneered at her as she walked her rude ass away from me.

I couldn't help but sit on Chase's table. No one else was there, and for once in my life I felt kind of intrigued by a kid in school. As I sat down opposite him, he peered up and gave me a little smile, before going back to creating his art. I took a loud crunch from my apple as I leaned over to observe his drawing. He didn't even cover it up. It was an amazing picture of two bats, clawing each other to the death above some skyscrapers, which looked similar to the ones in Gotham City. It certainly outdid any high school student's drawing.

"That's so cool," I exclaimed.

"You like?" he asked, not looking up.

"I think it's awesome!"

"Aw, thanks."

I finished my apple in two minutes flat, before moving onto my Pepsi Cola and chicken sandwich, which I gnawed upon furiously. Crumbs went everywhere, which I swooped off the table.

"Wow, you're hungry," Chase said, as he finished off the bat's ear.

"I always am," I explained. "I barely eat at home."

"Why's that?"

"Well, my mom, she doesn't shop a lot, my dad has to get food for me most of the time, and mostly it's just stuff he likes. He likes seafood and stuff like that."

"It's better than living off fries." That's when he finally looked up at me, his fringe flopping over his right eye.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied, taking my last bite and brushing the crumbs off my hands. "But my mom just buys drinks."

"That's not so bad."

"It is when it's stuff I'm not allowed to drink," I laughed.

"Oh, right," he laughed with me. "You were right about the school, I'm not enjoying it at all. My teacher's voice grates on me."

"Yeah, she's a funny one, Mrs. Dresden. No one enjoys it here. Not even the teachers. They all hate each other. My dad says that even the people who smile every day have a secret hatred for something out there."

"He's right."

"He always right."

Chase smiled at me as he put his pad away back into his rucksack.

"You like drawing then, hmm?" I asked.

"It's my favourite thing in the world," he said, his expression glowing with delight.

"Mine too!" I cried.

"No way!" he said, as he zipped up his bag.

"Yeah! I love drawing, like what you do. I have drawings all over my wall at home. My dad is good at it, too."

"That's so cool," he beamed. "So is that what you want to do when you grow up?"

"Yeah, I think so," I said. "I'm not really good at anything else…well, at least not good at things people _want _me to be good at."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm good at causing trouble, which isn't what people want, right?"

"No."

And for the rest of the lunch break, we both just sat there and talked about stuff I could never talk about to anyone else, except for dad. He told me about his single mom, and how much of an asshole his dad was, after he beat his mom and so they had to move to Gotham Town to get away from him. I didn't talk much about mom and especially dad. He'd think I was lying if I told him about what dad got up to on a daily basis. We showed each other our art, and discovered we like a lot of the same things. He didn't even bring up the fact I was crying that morning when I first saw him, making me feel so relieved. I could almost hear our connection clicking. I'd never felt so happy in school before, and I'd only just met the damn boy.

And it was then I realised, if you want to get noticed in life, you have to make a move first. You can't cry like a baby for attention, you have to take action if you want people to notice you. I'd been in the shadows, hiding from everyone my entire life up to that point, allowing them to come into the shadows and tear the happiness out of me. I'd only ever been able to spoken to dad, and he was so erratic, like I said. Learning from him may not have been the best thing, in fact, it was completely _not _the right thing, but he was the only person that gave me some sort of loving attention. Suddenly, I'd found someone else I could relate to, not just with life, but with hobbies and just _normal _things. It was very strange to me, but I found myself loving it. The pain and anger from the day before and from the morning wouldn't dare come back to me now.

I wanted to punch the wall when the bell rang to go to the final class of the day. Chase looked just as unimpressed.

As we got up to leave, he said, "Well, I didn't think I'd make friends with a _girl_."

I wasn't offended, because the girls there were all stupid. "Hey, we aren't all bad you know!" I chuckled, giving him a little nudge.

"You want my house number? Then we can stay in touch."

"We don't have a phone," I said, sadly, flinging my bag onto my shoulder. "Besides, I'll see you around in school, won't I?"

"Yeah, okay."

"See you around, Chase."

"Yeah, see you around, tiger."

"Tiger?"

"Yeah, I call people 'tiger' if they're cool."

"I'm flattered."

We both shared friendly laughter before departing to our different classes. The lesson I had was Art, which just made it even better. I ignored the fact that the girls from before were whispering and giggling as they made glances at me. The task was to create a painting of an animal.

So I painted a tiger.

I felt proud of myself at the end of that day. I didn't get a single detention!

I ran almost all the way home, because I just knew dad wouldn't break his promise and he'd be there, waiting for me. My bag was heavy on back, so I threw it far across the hallway when I got in, and it landed with a loud thump against the bathroom door. I was panting as I rushed to slip my shoes off and take my ponytail out, allowing my hair to fall free.

"Dad?!" I called, as I chucked my shoes off my feet.

I got no answer, but I heard the TV playing, so I knew he was in the sitting room, much to my pleasure.

"_Dad_?! I'm home!"

I put the bobble around my wrist and slowly opened the sitting room door, where dad was slouching on the sofa, like any typical dad. He looked shattered, he was holding the remote and his eyes were plastered the soap opera on screen. Dad looked like he'd been sweating, his hair greasy and his shoes were carelessly left out on the floor. He even looked like he'd been crying, slightly, but I didn't dare ask him about it. I wasn't stupid.

"I'm home, dad," I said, quietly, peeping through the door.

He shot his eyes in my direction, as he sat up slightly.

"Afternoon, Shaylee baby," he said, plainly.

"What's up, dad?" I said, coming into the room, shutting the door behind me.

"Oh nothing…_nothing _at all. Just having a little chill time. I'm always running around, aren't I? Makes me tired."

"I don't know how you do it, daddy."

"Ahh well, I'm just full of energy, I suppose. You have to have all this energy when you're running away from those moraines."

I giggled under my breath and then we both paused, as dad pulled his hair back slightly and smiled that familiar crafty grin at me.

"So how was your day at the hell hole, then?" he asked me.

I smiled widely as I remembered my very different kind of school day. "Oh, dad, I actually had a good day!"

He stared at me with pure disbelief. "Did you really?"

"Yes!"

He didn't take his eyes off me, staring at me curiously. He then patted the seat of the sofa and beckoned me with his hand.

"Come here, come sit with me." I did so, and I looked up at him with glistening eyes of excitement. "What made your day so…_special_, then?" he asked.

"Well, I met someone today…"

Dad suddenly flinched and held his hands up in front of him.

"Whoa-ho-ho-ho…you _met _someone?" He started laughing. "My darling, you are only eight years old!"

"Eww, dad!" I yelled, as I hit him on the arm. "I didn't even say it was a _boy_! It's not a stupid _boyfriend_! Eww!"

"It is a boy, though, isn't it? You don't hang around with _girls_, which I fully understand, by the way…"

"Well, yeah, it is…"

"Ha! I knew it!"

"Dad!"

"Alright, I'll keep my mouth shut. Tell me, what was so _special_ about him, hmm?"

"He loves art, like me, dad," I said, enthusiastically. Dad just nodded his head at everything I told him. "He's a bit older though, in the seventh grade, he's called Chase. He was actually nice to me. I sat with him at lunch and we spoke the whole time."

"Hmm, I see, I see. Well, isn't that just lovely? Finally, my daughter's talking to somebody other than her old dad!"

We both laughed then, as I jokingly hit him again.

After we'd calmed down, I looked around the room, listening out for mom in the kitchen or something. I didn't hear a sound.

"Where's mom?" I asked dad, who just grinned at the question.

"Ahh, she's done one."

I felt my heart drop. "What? Why?"

"It's nothing to worry about, Shay. I just went a bit…_mad_ at her. But it was her fault. Probably down at the bar at the moment, Shaylee, you know what your mother's like."

"Oh."

"Yeah, you know what I think about _drinkers_."

I then saw the hatred glisten in dad's eyes, making me edge away slightly. I knew he was thinking about his own father. The loathing he had for the man was unbelievable. He said to me the only person he ever loved growing up was his mom, and now she's passed away, I'm the only person he cares about. He doesn't even care about mom, not like he used to.

I gulped. "Dad?"

He looked at me with a blank expression.

"Dad…did you argue?"

"Only because I left her outside last night she went _crazy _at me. I thought I was doing her a favour, but she's _so _self-absorbed she just went off crazy and left me alone. I didn't even _do _anything today, Shaylee."

"What?" I was shocked.

"Yeah, she's made me so mad I didn't even bother going out today. Daddy's had…a bit of a shit day. I haven't liked it…_at all_. But listen, Shay, tomorrow I'll go and get you some, uh, _money_, okay? Then you can spend it on getting yourself something you want."

"Really?"

Dad then managed to smile, as he gently touched my cheek, making my heart smile. "Yeah…anything for you."

I leaped on him and hugged him tight. I thought he was going to push me away, but to my surprise he actually held me close. I thought I heard him sniffle softly. As I hugged him, I noticed a tinge of that white face paint on the side of his neck, making me very curious, but again, judging on his mood, I didn't dare ask him about it.

"Thanks, dad," I squeaked.

"Not a problem, princess."

I _told_ you dad cared about me. He may seem like he doesn't care about anything, but he _did _care about me. He _did _have some sort of love in his heart. Well, at least that time. I know I keep saying this, and you may not believe me, but, he _was _a good dad to me. He is still _is_, I swear... but as time went by he got angrier and his crimes became more frequent as I got older. I still was only eight at the time. It was frequent then, but not like it is now. What he does now is beyond extreme, but that information is for me to know, and you do find out.


	5. Mad Child

_**NOTE: This contains domestic violence, threat, language and details of mental health.**_

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Mad Child **

Mom returned home later that afternoon. I was in my room when she came home, busy scribbling away in pad, too busy concentrating to realise she'd arrived. Dad was in the sitting room, most of the time, though occasionally I heard him venture into his own room, to do what I had no clue. I only knew mom came home because I heard rattling in the kitchen.

I was working hard making a sequel to Chase's picture he'd shown me that lunchtime. I outlined a darkened Gotham City, with a starlit sky and towering skyscrapers dotted around, complete with busy traffic surrounding it. I placed one vampire bat high at the top of the paper, while the other was lifeless at the bottom. I drew one of his wings ripped to shreds, while the other wing was being happily gnawed upon by the victorious bat, as he flew above his enemy triumphantly, holding onto the wing in his claws, like it was a possession.

I didn't need to use much of my special pens to draw it, only the black and grey ones. It took me two and half hours to make it perfect, and during that whole time, mom didn't come in once to see me since she came home. As always. Dad at least came to check upon me at one point. He came in with an unlit cigarette hanging from teeth.

Dad wasn't a chain smoker. He just smoked them sometimes, which I know sounds weird but, he mostly only smoked one when he was stressed. Mom said he used to smoke it a lot more when he was younger, when they first met and before they moved in together. He only gave it up when mom got pregnant with me. Apparently mom forced him to give it up, because she didn't want to affect me growing up. I guess that's one useful thing she's done.

The fact he came in with it already in his mouth made me realise that it was best to leave him be for the majority of that night. His behaviour could become very ugly indeed if I talked to dad with a stressed mind.

"You okay, Shay?" he asked, when he came in. His hands were buried in his pockets.

I paused in horror when I saw the cigarette in his mouth.

"Y-Yeah…" I stuttered.

He lifted his head and looked curiously at my drawing, which at that point was about half done. When he viewed my picture, a small smirk formed on his lips, with the cigarette still loose in between his yellow-tinged teeth.

"Whatcha got there, honey?" he questioned, still peering at the drawing.

"Erm…just a little drawing I'm working on, daddy," I said, smiling at him.

"Hmm...It's very good. Very good indeed. You got a big imagination in that little _mind_, haven't ya?"

"Thanks, dad."

Dad then paused for a few moments, as he darted his eyes around my room, anxiously. I wasn't sure what to say to him, so I remained quiet. I lifted my pen to continue, which is when dad coughed loudly, to get my attention.

"Shay," he said. I put my pen down instantly and looked his way. "Your mom's home," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I know," I replied.

Dad quickly glanced over his shoulder before lowering his voice as he faced me again.

"She's practically locked herself in the kitchen. If I go in there, and out the back for a cigarette, she's going to go sick at me. She hasn't _bothered _to talk to me since she's come home."

"She hasn't spoken to me, either."

I could see the pity in dad's eyes as he groaned and removed the cigarette, placing it in his pocket. I stood up and tensely walked in front of him, which he didn't notice at first because his hands were over his eyes. I could just feel the pain inside of him. It was all around the room, and it was almost coming into me. I knew he couldn't go through mom yelling at him, not after that morning and the horrific night before. I very slowly lifted my hand and touched his elbow, making him take his arms away from his face.

"Dad?" I whispered. He stared at me, as he cautiously took my own hand and squeezed it slightly. He looked like he was about to start crying, but he never ever did. I was very rare dad behaved like this. He must have felt pretty awful in order to come to me an emotional wreck. He wasn't a very emotional person _at all_, but when he did display it, it definitely struck a chord with me."Dad, do you want me to talk to her, then?" I asked, quietly.

"No!" He clutched my hand even more. "No, I'm not letting her shout at you, too!"

"Dad, why would she shout at me? I've done nothing."

"But you know what she's like. Shaylee, she's drunk. I just_ know _she is. I can hear her in there getting it out. I'm not letting you around her whilst she's like that!"

"Daddy, please calm down…"

"I am calm, Shaylee, I just don't want her shouting. I had enough last night _and _this morning."

I racked my brains to think of a solution. I wasn't going to argue with him, not when he was in such a state. He was almost clinging onto me by now, I was certainly not strong enough to hold him up.

"Okay…dad? Dad? Why don't you have it at the front of the flat? You know, by the front door. You won't have to go through the kitchen then."

"Won't she hear me go out the door?"

"Not if you're quiet." I desperately tried to lighten his mood. "Besides, I thought you were sneaky, weren't you?"

I was so relieved when a big grin appeared on dad's face. He made me smile brightly, too, as he delicately prodded my face.

"Yeah, you're right," he chuckled. "Yeah, I _am _aren't I?" I winked as I giggled back at him. "Alright then, I'll go out the front. If your mother hears me just say it was the wind, okay?"

"Is mom that stupid?"

"Well, after having some of that stuff, she'll be even _more _stupid than usual."I spluttered into unstoppable giggles. "Shh! Shaylee!" Dad laughed. "Okay, go back to your drawing, then."

I scrambled back onto my bed, hastily grabbing my pens, ready to continue. I looked up at dad, who turned to exit my bedroom, getting the cigarette out of his pocket, followed by a lighter in the other.

I felt my heart pump out of my chest.

"Daddy?" He stopped in his tracks, but he didn't turn around to face me. "You will be okay, won't you?"

I heard him laugh softly. "Of course, baby. I'll be just fine. I just need some quiet time. If I get noise tonight I may get a bit, ah, _crazy_."

And with that, he went out, shutting the door neatly behind him. I listened out closely for him heading out the front door, or mom causing a commotion, but I didn't hear either. Thank goodness. I didn't hear dad come back in either, so he must've been very sneaky indeed.

That's when I spent another hour or so finishing my picture. I didn't hear another sound for that time, apart from the occasional stir in the kitchen or the hallway.

After I'd completed my piece of art, I held it up in front of me, proudly admiring what I'd created. I thought if one day Chase _ever _came round to visit, I could show it to him, and maybe then we'd just create a whole chunk of these pictures, almost creating a little comic book of our own. We'd make millions! It made my brain swirl with ideas just thinking about it.

Just like many pictures I'd done before, I decided to put it up on my wall. Once I'd finished a picture, I always cut the outside so the border was a certain shape. So it was only fair I did the same to this one, too. I frantically rummaged around in my draws to find some scissors, but I had no luck.

It was then I remembered. We always kept some scissors in the kitchen draw.

Damn it.

There was no way in the world I'd let mom get in the way of finishing my drawing, so I casually made my way out of my room and into the hallway, where I could hear the TV humming from the sitting room. The bathroom door was wide open, but mom and dad's bedroom door was firmly shut. It was peculiar, usually it was the other way round.

I entered the kitchen, where I saw mom in her scruffy clothes, sitting at the kitchen table, clinging onto her precious bottle of vodka with a glass close next to her. She just sat there. I'm surprised she wasn't passed out. She looked almost startled when I came in, but I just sarcastically smiled at her, as I rushed past her to the draw at the back of the kitchen. She followed me with her head but her eyes were half-closed.

I opened the drawer to find the scissors. So far so good. No screeching yet.

"What you doing, Shaylee?" Mom asked, her voice dreadfully slurred.

_Oh, brilliant, here she goes_, I thought.

"Just getting the scissors, mommy," I replied, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

"Ahh…what for?"

"I need them to cut something out. It's for my drawing."

Mom didn't reply. I searched the two draws until I eventually found our black scissors with a dangerously sharp end. I gasped with delight when I saw it, so I grasped it and slammed the draw shut.

I was just about to make my way out of the room, when I heard, "Shaylee, wait, honey."

Mom took another swig of the drink as I turned around to face her. I looked at her, impatiently.

"What?" I said.

"Is it for homework?" Mom slurred.

"What?"

"Your _drawing_. Is it homework?"

"No, it's just something I've done, mom."

"_Oh_, I see. Do you _have_ homework you could be getting on with?"

Miss Woodville had actually set us some English homework that day, but I had a week to do that, so I wasn't going to bother.

"No, mom," I lied.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Mom then got off her chair and stumbled to her feet. I backed away, nervously, until I felt my back hit the wall. I had to be careful when mom had had a lot to drink.

"Hey, hey, why are you moving away, honey?" Mom said, as she attempted to kneel down in front of me. Mom's drunken presence made me nervous. I never acted this way when dad was around me, it was only with mom. Especially when she was drunk. I didn't answer her, I instead just stared at her, to make her feel uncomfortable. I was unsuccessful as mom unsteadily kneeled in front of me, twitching her head. Luckily, she wasn't right up in my face, she was a few feet in front of me. "Are you _sure _you don't have homework?" she asked again.

"_I don't_!" I yelled, without thinking.

I could feel the frustration coming back to me again. I knew because I couldn't keep my hands still. With my free hand I tugged upon my t-shirt.

"Did you get to school on time, Shaylee?"

"Yeah," I lied.

"What about getting home?"

"Yes! Why do you think I wouldn't be home on time?!"

"You forgot your key this morning."

"No I never!"

"You told_ me _you didn't know where it was."

My mouth dropped open.

"Not _that_ key, mom! I knew where _my_ key was, I didn't know where the _back door_ key was!"

Mom gritted her teeth as I saw her blue eyes sparkle with irritation.

"It was right…there…on _that _table." She pointed, almost falling over. "How could you _not _know where it was, Shaylee?"

"I was busy getting ready!"

Mom then stood up angrily, towering above me. "Too busy to not let your own mother out from the garden after she just spent the whole night out there in the _freezing cold_!"

That thought made me start to giggle.

"Don't you _dare _laugh, young lady!"

"Don't shout at me, mom! Please!"

"I'm your mother! If I have to shout at you, I will!"

I couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth. This is what it was like all the time. I come in, meaning no harm, and she turns the conversation on its head, making an excuse to take her anger out on me. Exactly as I mentioned before, she bombarded me with some horrific names. Not just names, some of the things she said to me when she was drunk just ripped my heart out of my chest. She was supposed to be my mother. Even though he was considered 'scum', dad would never in his right mind say _anything_ like that to me. I don't think mom knew what the term 'parent' meant.

My heart stopped as I darted my head towards the kitchen door, to my left. It was still slightly open. I thought about dad for a second. I looked back at mom, who staring at me in the most disturbing way. I then remembered what I'd actually been in there to do in the first place.

"Mom, can I go back to my room?" I asked, trying to calm us both down. "I want to…"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Not until you explain to me why you left me out there!"

"It wasn't _me_! Dad left you out there last night!"

"Yes, he did, the horrible thug…"

I gasped in horror as I stomped forward, away from the wall.

"No he's _NOT_!" I screamed.

"Shaylee, your father is not the hero you think he is, you know!"

"He actually _bothers_! He comes to make sure I'm okay! To find out what I've been up to! _You_ don't! Why do I always have to come to _you _to start a conversation?! You barely start one with me! I'm not stupid, you know, mom!"

I started to see red. I gripped the scissors tightly in my hand, just like I did when I had dad's gun in my hand just the day before. My throat was starting to ache and my voice became embarrassingly shaky.

After my rant, mom then took a deep sigh as she walked backwards towards the table again. She reached over to the bottle, which just made by blood boil even more.

That was what set it off. My head started to reel, making me scrunch my eyes shut. It overtook my mind once again.

"Shaylee, listen to me…" Mom said, a little calmer now.

"No! I don't want to!"

"Shaylee, you think I don't love you?"

At that moment, the door was bashed open by dad, who stormed in and pushed over one of the chairs, making us both silent.

"What the _fuck _is going on?!" he shouted at mom, who coward backwards into the table.

I decided to cut in before she said any more disgusting things.

"She called me a liar!" I yelled.

"I didn't, Shaylee…"

"Yes you _did_!"

My head couldn't stand it anymore. My shrill scream racked the walls of the kitchen, as I threw the scissors far across the room. It glided through the kitchen, just missing mom and dad and landing near the back door. I threw it so hard, I was lucky I didn't smash the glass on the door. I wouldn't have cared if I did anyway.

Mom slammed down her bottle and I swear a look of murder came upon her face.

"_Shaylee Jane Napier_!" she screamed, stomping towards me.

I was prepared to hit her if she came close to me, but luckily dad held her back, roughly. Dad looked absolutely livid as he pushed her back into the table before she could say anything more to me.

"Do _not _touch her, you heartless bitch!" Dad almost sounded demonic when he screamed at her. He had his back facing me, so I couldn't see what mom's face was like.

I'd never witnessed dad like that before. I'd heard him yell and hit mom at night, but I'd never actually seen him be abusive up until that moment. I just knew from his mood before that he would lash out if he was pushed to it. The shock of dad acting like that made me gasp quietly. I felt my heart racing. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I leaned back on the wall again, waiting nervously for what dad was going to do next.

For the first time, I felt scared in dad's presence.

Dad released mom after he heard me gasp. He looked so worried when he whirled around to face me, who shuffled backwards. I thought he was going to yell, but instead he calmly walked over to me and kneeled down to my level. I hadn't even realised I'd been crying until dad wiped away a tear from my cheek.

"Alright, calm down, baby," he said, soothingly. I found it amazing how he could change from being angry to being so calm in just a few seconds. I gasped as I just allowed myself to cry again, like I'd done that morning. These two days were turning into such an emotional rollercoaster. Dad shushed me and stroked my cheek as I tried to get the banging out of my head. He rested his head against mine, which helped me calm down. "Okay, okay, Shaylee…what's happened here?" Dad asked, calmly, as he continued to wipe my tears.

I skidded a breath in as I felt another tear fall. Mom had taken a seat again by now, and she just sat there with her head resting against her hands.

"I…I…"

"Shhh," Dad whispered. "It's okay, I'll get this sorted. You go to your room, sweetheart."

"But…but dad!"

"Shaylee…trust me. Please. Go." He looked at me sternly.

"O-Okay…" I whimpered.

"Good girl."

Dad stoop up to face mom again, who hadn't even glanced back up at him.

I frustratingly wiped my tears off my face as I took deep breaths to get the demons out of my brain. Just before I left the room, I looked up at a hatred-filled dad.

"Dad?" My voice was shaking.

"Go to your room, darlin'. Go to calm down." Dad didn't look cross, which made me feel relaxed a little bit.

I raised a shaky finger towards the scissors, still laying against the back door.

"Can I have those?" I asked, nervously.

Dad nodded. I ran towards the door and picked them up, before running back towards the door and as I passed mom, I gave her a look of disgust through my watery eyes.

I shut the door behind me and rushed back into my bedroom. I slid down my bedroom door, making it close. I skilfully threw the scissors onto my bed, ready to cut my picture.

I sat there very quietly. My heart was still beating fast. I buried my head in my knees, an attempt to get the last little demons out of my head. I closed my eyes and tried to take deep breaths.

I was starting to feel absolute hate for my own mom. I felt no love. The tiny bit of love I had for her slowly faded away after what she'd just done.

I thought I could make it all stop.

That was until I heard mom and dad start arguing.

"What the _fuck _were you doing, Diana?!" Dad yelled.

"_I _didn't do _anything_, Jack. She started yelling at me."

Oh my god!

"And you think the best way to handle that is to yell back?!"

"Ahhh…."

"_Shut up_!" Dad groaned loudly and I heard a loud smash erupt the flat.

"What are you _doing_?!" Mom cried.

"Ah-ha! You see?! You get fucking worried when your precious vodka is smashed. What if Shaylee got badly hurt, hmm? Would you give a shit then? _Look at me when I'm talking to you_!"

I heard a hard slap and dad groan in pain, making my heart stop.

"Ooh, getting all feisty on me, huh?" He laughed manically.

"Don't you _fucking _touch me!"

Mom screamed and I my ears hurt when I heard a thump on the kitchen wall. I scrunched up my face as I continued to bury my face in my knees. It was pitch black.

"Look at me, Diana," Dad threatened. "_Look at me_! You piece of shit! What were you about to do?! You were going to lash out at our own little girl!"

"I…I was _not_!"

"Don't give me that! _That_…_that _stuff is making you act this way! And you say you're not addicted! You're full of shit!"

"_I'm addicted_?! What are you, Jack? What are you?!"

"I'm a fucking father, Diana! A proper parent! I'm a father _and _a mother to Shaylee!"

"You-"

"Don't you _dare _interrupt me!"

There were a few moments of silence as I heard mom gasp. I guessed dad head her by her throat. Dad's voice was that familiar dangerous tone, that I knew mom had no chance against him.

"Listen to me. I heard _every word_. You think I wasn't going to hear you? All she came in there for was to get some scissors, and you…you start talking about homework and shit? You didn't ask her how her day went. What she was drawing? You started talking about something _I _did to you that was nothing to do with her. Aren't you forgetting something here? Remember that day last year when Shaylee was ill? And _I _had to practically force you to take her to a doctor…."

"Because you couldn't take her yourself!"

"Ah-ah-ah…_I'm talking_. That's when it was all found out. She'd got my schizophrenia. Do you realise how serious that is? She was only seven for fuck's sake! We knew from her school that she has _clear _anger issues. So what do you do? You constantly yell at her, boss her around. How many times to I have to give you a parenting lecture? You _need _to support her and guide her through all the shit she has in her mind. You don't know some of the crap she goes through every day because you don't bother with her. I know though, because she talks to me. You studied psychology, right? You should know. _I know_. You think this is helping your dear fiancé? No. _No_! You're driving me mad!"

"Which is _why _you need to see a doctor, you bastard!"

"Why do you always make things about me? This isn't about me. This is about our daughter!"

"Get the _fuck_ off me, Jack!"

Dad chuckled. "You're unbelievable. I don't know…why…I bother...with you."

"You were bothered enough to put a ring on my finger!"

"Ha! Yes, you see, I'm starting to regret that now! Do you still regret, Shaylee, huh?"

"Don't…don't you even _try _bringing that up!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. What? The fact you didn't even want her in the first place? Why? Because you were scared she'd get some of my problems? Well, she has, Diana, and she's going through it, you need to help her! Not yell at her!"

"I didn't want her, did I?"

"You have a short memory, don't you, bitch? That shit you drink does that, you know."

"I'm _not _an alcoholic!"

Dad laughed hysterically, along with the sound of mom yelping and the chair falling on the floor. I heard mom scream in pain.

"Told you that stuff is dangerous! Mind the glass, Di!" Dad laughed.

I couldn't help but giggle to myself at that. I know that's cruel, but at that moment I couldn't care less about mom.

So much was revealed to me that night, some things I didn't even know about. I had no idea about mom wanting to abort me at birth. That explains her attitude towards me, and why dad cared so much. He wanted me, and she was selfish. Thinking about it now, it doesn't really surprise me, but as an eight-year-old, I felt like a dagger had just been plunged into me. That made me start crying again.

I was close to my mom at one point, you know. When I was about three or four, I had a good relationship with mom. Although I don't remember much, I do remember spending time some together. I remember when I was three and she played hide and seek with me. We'd waste so many hours chasing each other round the house, while dad helped me to find her. It was only when she started drinking did things turn sour between me and her. She started drinking because dad went off the rails. He broke the law once, and that was it. She was never the same again. Dad told me she started drinking when I was a baby, because she had postnatal depression. Mom never talked to me about it, but according to dad, she got worse when he started stealing, but it was bad when I was just a year old.

Then there was the reveal about schizophrenia. I was totally confused, at eight years old, I had no idea what that was. Obviously I know now, but I didn't know what to think that night. To me, it just sounded like a big long word that meant nothing. I always knew I had conditions, but I didn't know why and what they did to me. The schizophrenia comes from dad, which is much worse at this moment in time. It's practically taken over his mind, now, it hadn't so much then. I shouldn't talk about it, really, but you'll understand later. It truly is an evil thing to the mind. For me to inherit it in the first place is very rare, but to be diagnosed at seven, let me tell you, I was never going to be normal. They somehow found it in me _so young_, even though I didn't truly feel it until the day the monster was released when I found the gun.

It wasn't _my _fault I had anger issues. That comes from my behavioural disorder. You may have heard of it, it's called attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD for short. It's not severe, but it is rarer in girls than in boys. Dad said he had it when he was young, too, so it could be a genetic thing. The thing is, I was diagnosed with it when I was about six and a half, so I was quite young. Remember how I said before that in school I got distracted easily and could never concentrate on my work? Yeah, that's because of my ADHD. The fact I always want attention is because of it too, and I _really _hate it. I want it to go away, but in other ways, I don't. It keeps me occupied, I suppose, but when you're a little girl with ADHD, you get _so _annoyed with it. It occurs more when I'm in school, not at home. Mom knows all about it, so when she found out that dad has it, she was scared I would have it, too. Although, I believe it's more down to parenting than genetics.

But what can I do? I'm just a girl, after all, I just have a few little problems. I was never going to have a typical life. Not with a dad who's slowly becoming out of his mind but somehow still manages to always be right.

After I heard mom and dad quieten down slightly, I lifted my head up to look at the clock on my side table, blinded by the lamp. It was still only 8:45. I sniffed as I listened out for the argument to continue. I didn't hear any words, just a few crashes with the table and some harsh slaps. I don't who they were coming from, but I presumed they were from dad, hitting mom. That was normal for me to hear every night.

After a few moments, I heard dad say, quite casually, "I'm not letting you _anywhere_ near me tonight. I'll sleep on the sofa."

I can't really remember what happened after that, except for the flat becoming deadly silent. I heard mom messing in the kitchen, then going into her room, slamming the door hard.

The time was 9.30. I had gotten into my pyjamas and I managed to calm myself down completely. The noises had left me alone. I'd lied in my bed to get them away. I had finally cut my border around my picture and put it safely away in my wardrobe, as I didn't dare go into the kitchen for cello tape.

It was like walking into a tomb when I came into the hallway at 9:35. Mom snoring was the first thing I heard, which I found unbelievable how she could sleep with saying goodnight or feeding me at all that night. The TV in the sitting room was still humming, so I knew dad wasn't asleep yet. I very nervously opened the door and peered through to see dad laying peacefully in his pyjamas on the ripped sofa. He was staring at the ceiling, blankly, and I noticed an ashtray on the arm of the sofa, with one cigarette in it.

"Daddy?" I whispered, as I shut the door, quietly.

He didn't answer.

"Dad? Dad, I…I'm going to bed."

He then turned his head and smiled at me, but he did not move from his position.

"I'm not surprised, after all that tonight," he said. "What a load of noise, eh?"

"Yeah." I felt incredibly guilty. "Dad?"

"Yes, princess?"

"Dad…I'm sorry."

He immediately beckoned me over with outstretched arms, as he sat up, alert. "Sorry?" he said, surprised. "Come here, honey." I ran over and squeezed him tightly, as he squeezed me back. "Whatcha sorry for, huh?"

I hated the fact I felt the tears coming again so held my breath as I spoke. "I…I knew you didn't want to get angry tonight because you were stressed and I got angry so I made you get angry with mom, and…and…I _knew _I shouldn't have lashed out but I did and you were stressed out, anyway and I just made you worse, daddy, and…and I'm sorry…."

"Aw, baby, shh," Dad giggled as he stroked my hair. "Calm down. Look, I _know _you get crazy sometimes. Look what happened with Ace, huh? Sometimes, we get angry, Shaylee. Daddy gets angry all the time because your mother annoys the hell out of me. You don't understand how many times I have yelled at your mom about you, because you deserve better than her. And you know what? One day she's gonna regret taking up that horrible stuff and leaving you out. Next thing we know she'll be getting in deep with the sharks…but you've always got me, haven't ya? Hey?"

"Yeah," I sniffled.

"Don't feel guilty, Shaylee. I _know _you can't help your anger…don't worry about it. You're special, like I told you. I'm not surprised you got angry, to be honest."

"But what if I get worse?"

"Then you get worse. I'm sorry, Shaylee, but…I'm not taking you to a doctor. They're all...pathetic...trust me." He paused. "My job is protect you. I tell ya, one day, you'll be out there, and you'll understand how dark the world is. I see it every day, and I try and show them how pathetic they really are, right?"

"Right."

I just stayed cuddled in his arms for a few moments. It was so nice to have this moment, as it only happened when dad got really emotional and didn't act like a badass like he usually did.

I looked up at him, to find him smirking back down at me.

"Shaylee?" he said.

"Yes, dad?"

His normal self suddenly returned. "How would you like….to have a campfire tomorrow night?"

I perked up and beamed at my father. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "We haven't had one in a while. Besides, poor old Ace needs a funeral, right?"

I burst out laughing, as did dad. I didn't care if we woke mom up or not. I didn't care about anything at that moment. I just felt so safe and loved with my crazy father. He could change my mood in a flash. He could change my tears of pain to tears of happiness in seconds. He has a lot of life in him. I like that.


	6. The Right To Remain Silent

_**This chapter is very important, with a turning point coming up!**_

_**NOTE: Contains violence, threat, some strong language and gruesome moments.**_

_**I hope you like, and thank you.**_

* * *

**Chapter 5 - The Right to Remain Silent**

My life was never the same after those two days of chaotic events. From that night onwards, I decided to allow myself to cry more. I'd once been too scared to cry, or too embarrassed because I regarded crying as displaying weakness, but because of dad's words with me that night, I realised, crying is okay. Sometimes it's needed. In my case, crying slowly killed the demons in my head when I became angry. I'd always looked up to dad, and he never cried. I'd seen him be close, but I'd never witnessed one single tear in his eye.

Dad kept his promise the next day. His usual eccentric personality returned and he stole some money for me. $150 to be exact. It was waiting for me on my bed when I came home from school. Dad had piled it there, neatly, with an untidy note reading, '_Shay, take this and spend it on a night's worth of food since your mother didn't bother last night. We'll have it round the campfire tonight. Dad x_'.

Yes!

He wasn't home at that point, for some reason and mom was asleep in the sitting room. I didn't want to bother her, for obvious reasons.

I ventured all by myself to the little shops, five minutes away from our flat. They weren't that far away from school. I loaded the entire $150 in my pockets _and _my backpack.

I went overboard with the food, but I just couldn't help myself. All the unhealthy stuff I could find in that shop, I bought it. I was grinning from ear to ear the entire time I was in the shop, having the time of my life collecting and piling it up in my little arms. One little kid stared at me in awe as I lifted my items onto the counter, where a lady with a short bob and glasses looked absolutely overwhelmed.

"Goodness me, young lady!" she said, laughing. "That's a lot to carry, isn't it?"

"I'll be fine," I replied, cheerfully. "I've got plenty of room in my school bag."

"How nice of you to do some shopping for your mom," she said, as she began to scan my items.

"Uhh, no…it's for my dad, actually," I said, nodding my head at her.

I leaned forward on the counter, wanting to look her right in the eyes. I loved acting all strange and sneaky with strangers who seemed to be cowards.

"Oh, I see."

She had no idea.

"We're going to have a campfire tonight, so that's why I got all this food," I explained.

I smiled widely at her, as she froze and widened her eyes at me. I had to giggle to reassure her I wasn't crazy.

"Oh, right," she replied, nervously, before continuing scanning. "What's that for then?"

"You see, my dad, he's got all these amazing stories, and he likes to tell me them when we sit around the campfire, and I'm _starving_, which is why I'm getting all this food."

"Oh, that's lovely. What kind of stories are these?"

I laughed. "Oh, you – you don't want to know!"

She looked nervous as I continued laughing loudly. Everyone was staring at me, but I loved it. The woman didn't say anything for a few moments, as she finished my last few things and started putting them into bags.

"That's $47.93, please," she said.

"What?" I didn't hear because I was still in hysterics.

"$47.93," she repeated, sounding annoyed.

Surprisingly cheap. I rummaged through my pockets and slammed down a $50 note on the counter, which she quickly took and gave me my change. I took my three bags of shopping and was almost dragged to the floor when I felt the weight. Before leaving, I smirked at the lady on the counter.

"Thank you," I giggled, before skipping out of the shop.

Many eyes followed me as I happily bounced out of the shop. What was wrong with people? Couldn't a little girl just shop in peace without getting stared at?

When I came out of the shop, I managed to squeeze one of the bags into my backpack, leaving me to carry the other two in both of my hands. I was so glad our flat was just around the corner, as my arms felt like they were about to fall off as I carried them back. Despite that, I managed to keep my excited grin on my lips.

I returned home to discover mom had awoken and was in the kitchen, which is the first place I went to, to store the food away. Her forehead was creased with worry when I came in, and she breathed a big sigh of relief, as she closed the door of the refrigerator.

"Oh Shaylee!" she cried. "Where have you _been_? Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine."

"Are you not hurt or…?" she wailed.

"Mom, I'm okay, I promise."

I groaned, as I placed the two bags of shopping on the table. Mom gasped in shock when she saw it.

"What's all this?" she asked, putting her bottle on the side and coming over to me. Thank goodness.

"It's food, mom," I said, unzipping my backpack to get the third bag of shopping. "I went and bought some food from the little shops."

"How could you afford all of this?!"

"Dad gave me the money for it."

Mom paused. "Oh. Oh, of course he did."

Once I'd placed the last bag on there, I turned around to walk back to my bedroom, but mom's worried tone stopped me in my tracks.

"Shaylee, honey…"

I turned around to face mom, who was taking a seat.

"What?" I asked, impatiently.

"Honey….is everything alright?"

"With what?"

"With you. I mean, do you feel okay?"

"Yeah," I lied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…"

That's when I noticed it. I looked closer at mom's face, where there lay an ugly red mark beside her left eye. I walked forward, my eyes squinted as I tried to observe it more. Mom didn't move.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing.

"What's what?"

"That."

Mom carefully touched her face, tracing her mark before quickly removing her hand away from her face.

"Oh, it's nothing."

I just looked at her for a few, long moments. I knew it was a mark that dad had given her, and it was big. It wasn't like a little mark I'd gotten when I'd fallen over in school or anything, it looked painful, and it stood out, crimson red on her pale face. I didn't really feel sorry for her, but…it was nice to just talk to her normally, for once. Because she surprisingly wasn't drunk.

It took me a while to speak. "Is it from last night, mommy?"

"What?"

"That mark, did you get it last night?"

Mom looked totally puzzled. "Shaylee, what…what do you mean?"

I sighed. "Do you even remember?"

Mom didn't answer. She just sat there, delicately touching her mark as she just stared at me in confusion.

"Never mind," I sighed. "I'm going to my room."

I walked out of the kitchen, taking my school bag with me. I left the door open purposely, just so I could hear if mom would immediately open the bottle. She did exactly that.

When I entered my bedroom, I went straight back to doodling. Chase and I had been hanging out again, and we got this awesome idea to exchange pictures, for inspiration. That day, Chase had shown me another picture he'd drawn, this time a colourful drawing of a zombie apocalypse. He'd masterfully drawn the zombies all different shapes and sizes, as they rose up from each of their graves and invaded a fallen Gotham City. He'd shown me how to draw an amazing zombie, so I instantly got down to practicing. He would exchange that drawing first, and I decided I'd give my "Bat Victory" (yeah that's what I called it) picture to him the next day. Chase was _so _good at it, I swear he was beyond his years with his talent. I was a horrible artist compared to Chase, but nevertheless, I was determined to show dad what I'd done when he returned home.

Dad returned home just after it went dark, and by that time I had finished my drawing. I heard the door slam hard and then he practically zoomed past my room and immediately locked himself the bathroom. I wasn't quick enough to catch him, but I had a conversation with him outside the door. Mom was in the sitting room, watching some depressing romance movie, which was blasting through the flat. I could barely hear myself speak, but that didn't take away my major enthusiasm.

"Hi, daddy!" I called, from outside the door. I was holding onto my sketch in my hand.

"Alright, my darlin'?!" he replied, cheerfully. That means he'd had a successful day.

"Dad, I bought some food for us, like you said!"

"Ahh, good _girl_! Whatcha get?"

"All sorts of stuff! Uhh…chocolate for me!"

"Well, it wouldn't be a campfire night without _that_, now would it?"

I chuckled. "Daddy, what are you _doing _in there? I want to show you something!"

"Give me five minutes, Shay. Go get ready. Make sure your mom don't disturb us tonight."

"She's in there watching something anyway. Probably asleep."

"_Nice_. Go on then, getcha self prepared!"

I did exactly as he said. I went out into the garden and neatly folded out the garden chairs. I didn't open the shed, I dreaded the fact I would witness Ace flopping out of there. Hey, I may be slightly unfeminine, but I have restrictions. There's no way I'd drag out a dog's corpse out of a shed! Come on. That was dad's job.

We got going with our little father-daughter bonding time, the most insane father-daughter bonding time in history, about 45 minutes later. I was ecstatic when dad decided to wear one of his purple suits, he told me he'd been wearing it all day, and he was too lazy to get dressed again. It wasn't that warm outside anyway. He'd actually brushed his hair that day, so his frizz had almost all disappeared, but that didn't take his handsomeness away. Dad was very pleased when he came into the kitchen and discovered all of my shopping. We both laughed as he ripped the bags to shreds, letting the food fall free and said the plastic bag ruins could also go on the fire. It took him half an hour to actually _build _our fire, though. He dragged out the latest pile of wood from the shed (I don't know how he got it or where he'd got it from, but who cares?), as well as the corpse of our own deceased pet, which looked disgusting. I shuddered a bit when he hauled Ace's rotten body out and tossed him on the pile.

"Ahh, I think it's the best one yet, honey," he said to me with his hands on his hips, proudly looking down on his pile of wood.

"Yeah. Doesn't Ace just look so sleepy?" I giggled.

Dad burst out laughing. "Yeah, yeah…he sure does!" He took several breaths before continuing. "Now. We got everything ready, my darling?"

"I think so," I replied, nodding.

"Hmmm…you gotcha food ready?"

"Yep," I grinned as I held up my chocolate bar.

Dad grinned deviously at me, as he strolled over to the back door. I took a nibble from my bar as I curiously watched him tug on the door handle. The door stayed firmly shut, making me grin just as deviously as dad did.

Something I noticed about us both: we have the same smile. I looked identical to dad when I smiled, you could definitely tell I was his daughter. That would be a problem in years to come.

"Yep," Dad said, as he walked back to me, rubbing his hands together. "Door's locked. No shouting from Diana to_night_. No. _No_….no trouble from her. Okay then, let's start this, shall we?" He glanced at me and I eagerly nodded back at him, as I continued to munch on my chocolate bar. Dad revealed some matchsticks from his jacket pocket, and then a matchstick lighter from inside his jacket, looking like he had planned ahead. He held them in front of him, and observed them for a few moments, grinning that gruesome smile again. "Shaylee?" he said.

"Yeah?" I answered, with my mouth full.

"Would you like to see a magic trick?"

I smiled brightly, as I shoved the chocolate down my throat and began to laugh. "Yes please!"

Dad laughed hysterically, as he lit the first matchstick in one go. I watched him in awe, as he held it on front of his face, grinning insanely at the flame flicking bright, before chucking it onto the wood pile. It immediately burst into flames, almost like it _was _magic. I gasped in amazement as dad repeated the trick with another matchstick, lighting up even more of the fire. He continued before the fire was in full bloom, the burning flames warming up my cold skin.

Dad smugly whirled round to me, after he'd completed the 'trick' and did a silly little bow, before saying "Ta-da!"

I gave him a little applause. We both started laughing hysterically again, our laughter gorgeously echoing in the garden. We didn't care if we woke the neighbours. I chucked my chocolate bar wrapper into the fire, making dad laugh even harder. He ran towards me, grabbed me hard around my belly, sweeping me off my feet and spinning me in circles. I squealed loudly, kicking my legs in the air as dad continued laughing.

"And in…you…go!" Dad yelled as he faced me towards the fire, still holding me tightly. I screamed playfully as he pretended to chuck me in, before releasing me into my chair, and throwing a packet of Haribos at my face. I swear we were laughing for a good ten minutes about that, dad was almost crying from laughter.

As mad as it was, this was the most fun I'd had in a _long time_. The past two days had been like hell, apart from the odd moment, but now it felt like me and dad were back to our typical selves again. I loved it. I'd recently felt like I could never have fun again, but dad _always _knew how to spark the typical Shaylee.

Our night continued like we normally did around the campfire. I asked dad what he'd been up to in the city, which lead to him telling me an endless story about how that morning, he'd broken into a rich guy's house with his friends. It wasn't Bruce Wayne's house (he was that stupid billionaire), the guy wasn't _that _rich, but he still had a load of money. One of dad's friends threatened the man, while dad and the others stole that $150 he'd gotten for me. They'd managed to escape just before the police arrived, but the guy was apparently so scared he couldn't even tell them what had happened! He'd heard that from the guy who'd threatened him, so they got away with that one. Serves him right. What rich guy needs $150 when he has a shit load more that he can spend whenever he wants?

Dad went on a rant about how ridiculous it was that people like him don't give a stuff about people like us and only about themselves, when it's actually us who _needs _the money. Mom didn't have a job, because she gave it up, and dad hadn't had a job since he was 21. Yeah, we get rent money, but, dad was ill, although at the time I didn't know he needed medication, and mom needed help with her drinking. Okay, maybe she didn't want the help, but dad was on the edge of threatening to take me away if she didn't get help. He told me that's why he picks on people like that guy, people with a lot of money, because that's all they care about. He said they need to take a closer look at what Gotham's really like. The frustration in his eyes when he told this story was bright, it glowed even brighter than the burning fire.

Dad was incredibly fascinating to me as a little girl, to the average little girl or even little boy he would be absolutely terrifying. When he was telling me his stories, he would barely take his eyes off me. It was like he was unable to use gestures. The story came from his facial expressions, mostly expressed in his eyes. I could just tell by directly looking in them what his emotions were, they twinkled whenever he spoke about his past, particularly his father. He had a captivating face, I just couldn't take my eyes off him. Like I mentioned before, he would take his time when he was talking, he wanted me to hear and remember every single word and he purposely emphasised and prolonged the important parts, sometimes glancing upwards at that invisible person talking to him. As I've said, I was very smart for a kid, I knew exactly what he was doing. He was informing me, preparing me, showering me with information for my future.

I sat there listening to him, constantly nibbling on snacks, for what seemed like a short time, but we were there until the sky went pitch black and the flames were touching the sky. Once dad had finished his tales, I looked at the fire in wonder. The fire was so beautiful, it made feel butterflies. Dad starting humming to himself, as he took some sweets himself and starting chewing repetitively.

After a few minutes, he said to me, "Fascinated, are we, Shay?"

"Hmm?"

"Getting a bit lost in the fire, there, I see."

"Oh – oh, yeah. It's so pretty."

Dad chuckled as he chewed on another sweet.

"So, my love, what was it you wanted to show me then, huh?" he asked.

I beamed as I excitedly got out my neatly folded drawing out of my jean pocket, which I'd been keeping safe.

"Look at this, dad," I said, handing it over to him. "I drew it after I went shopping."

Dad quietly chuckled to himself as he observed my picture.

"Very well done, Shaylee," he smirked. "What's this for, then?"

"Chase taught me how to draw it."

"Ahh, Chase, is it?"

He handed it back to me, and I scrunched it back into my pocket. I nodded back at dad, who out his hands up at the fire, before rubbing them together. He looked just as besotted as me.

"Shame there aren't any fireworks tonight, dad," I said.

"It is, isn't it?" Dad replied. "Remind me to prepare one of these nights for 4th July. _Then _we can have a special night!"

We spent another half an hour or so deep in conversation whilst stuffing ourselves with the junk food. It was like heaven for me. I talked to dad about Chase more, describing his appearance and his similarities to me. Now with Chase at the school, I could at least have decent days at Little Hill Elementary. Dad knew I hated it so much, he'd argued about it with mom several times, especially when mom blabbered on about my bad school reports and frequent detentions. She just didn't understand my ADHD.

After our night was over, dad put out the fire using a large bucket and filling it up with water from the sink in the kitchen. My heart dropped when it had to end, it just wasn't fair. I wish the night had never finished, but my bed time was 10:00pm, and mom would go sick if I stayed up late. I assisted dad with putting the logs away, leaving dad to bury the remains of Ace's body in the garden. I felt queasy at the thought, so instead I binned all of the wrapping paper and stored the unused food in the fridge.

Whilst dad was busy burying our beloved dog, I snuck into the sitting room, to find mom passed out on the sofa, with TV now turned off. Her mouth was gaping open and she was snoring disturbingly loud. Mom had been drooling all over her hideous flowery top, and in her hand she gripped onto her bottle of alcohol, with three others empty at the side. The pain inside me flashed as I just watched her sleeping. It was incredibly sad, really.

I left her and got into my favourite pyjamas, decorated with bat patterns. I stuffed my picture into my school bag ready to show Chase the next day. I heard dad stirring in the kitchen, with the back door locking. It wasn't long before he came in to wish me goodnight.

"Great night, honey. Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, as I nestled into bed.

"Of course I did," I replied, beaming brightly at him. I paused before nervously continuing. "Dad…"

"Hmm?"

"Mom's already asleep, in the sitting room…"

"Great! Looks like I get my own bed back tonight then," he laughed, winking at me.

I didn't laugh with him. "But dad, she's got the drink with her."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw it in her hand…"

"Ahh, no surprises there…"

"Will she ever stop?"

Dad glanced up at me, sighing heavily. "Maybe, someday. I hope. If I can…_knock _the sense into her."

And he really did try to. I swear.

As you know, mom and dad argued almost every night. It was like it was a duty, so it was nice to sleep peacefully that night. The arguments were mostly about the same thing, so it became normal to me. As the years rolled by, mom became even more abusive than dad was, but of course dad always overpowered mom. Mom's beatings on dad messed him up even more, I could just tell, the next day he would hardly speak.

It didn't change for the next two years or so. Although, after those three days of chaos, I did feel an odd change inside of me. My anger got worse, my tears became more common and yelling at mom became natural. I'd never been as mad as I'd had been that night when she nearly hit me. That night has scarred me for life.

I continued to hang out with Chase in school, every day discussing art and our personal lives. I told him about how I idolised my father and how I had a rocky relationship with my mom. It was the opposite for him, as I mentioned before, but he always asked what my dad was like, but I simply refused to talk about dad's life and his 'problems.' I was petrified Chase would think we were both crazy if I told him the bizarre things we got up to. I always bashed on about my mom though, and what the latest argument had been about. People made fun of me in school for hanging out with a boy, especially Chase who everyone thought was a nerd. We couldn't care less, though. We were all we had in school.

School life continued as normal. I excelled in art, but nothing else. I didn't _want _to excel in anything else. I always shouted at the teachers, because they just didn't understand. Chase was the only one who understood some of the crap I went through day in and day out. I spent more time in detention than in actual lessons, for goodness sake. Now and then I beat up Kayley Lyons because she was an ignorant bitch, and of course I got the blame every time, getting a pointless detention and a letter sent home to top things all off. You can imagine how it went down at home when my parents found out I'd been getting into fights. But it wasn't my _fault_.

Life at home wasn't _always _bad. When dad was in his best moods, we still had our campfire evenings and he always spoke to me about new things. I learnt about dad's knives, one day. As I grew older, dad was using those more as well. Although I never saw it in its glorious action, I often saw dad carry one out of the house with him more. Sometimes I noticed during the day, it would be on the table in the kitchen, and in the morning it would be on the floor, after mom and dad had had a brain-racking argument.

On my 9th birthday, I didn't receive much. Dad had got me a fresh, new drawing pad and a collection different pens, which I adored and spent all day playing with (my birthday was on a Saturday, thankfully). Dad insisted they weren't stolen. Mom only gave me $10. Yeah, that's it. Chase got me a skull-and-cross bones hat, which I jokingly made dad wear. Mom had the nerve to try and start _another _little disagreement just before I went to bed, but dad said he wouldn't dare argue on my birthday.

I loved him so much.

So that was my life for the next two or so years, basically. Nothing changed particularly.

Okay, I lie.

Apart from my anger issues slowly becoming more serious, my behavioural problems did too. The demons were killing my mind more and more each year. They told me to fight back. I nearly hit a teacher once, and one night I almost punched mom, only to be once again rescued by dad. I can't explain it properly. There's this noise humming disturbingly loud in my brain it takes control of my actions. You don't think I want to hit and be violent, do you? No. No I don't. But it can't be helped, and dad insists that I don't see a doctor in Gotham City.

But everything in my life changed in just one night.

It was summer vacation, I was ten years old by this time. It was really late at night, but the night seemed unusually cold and bleak for the summer. I'd recently been feeling lost, as Chase was moving to Gotham High in the next school year, as he was now eleven years old. I was dreading the fact I had to survive a whole school year without him. He hadn't even been round to my flat yet to visit, because mom _or _dad would never allow it.

Dad had not returned home since early that morning. Mom was stressed out of her mind, I hadn't spoken to her all day, as I wasn't in the mood. I wasn't worried, because I knew dad _always _came home.

It was about 9:45 when she finally came into my room. I was laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, conjuring up ideas in my mind for a painting. I ignored her when she walked in. Instead I pointed up at the ceiling, making shapes with my finger in the air, almost like it was a piece of paper. I didn't care that mom was crying. I knew by now that the alcohol did that.

"Shaylee…" she whimpered. I refused to talk to her. "Shaylee, there's been, uhh…Shay, listen to me!"

I slammed my arm down on my bed and looked at her intolerantly. "What?!" I sat up and stopped when I saw mom crying. "Why are you crying?"

"There's been a…the police…are down at the jewellery store…you know, the ones by the little shops…"

"So?"

"It's surrounded by the police…"

"And your point is?"

Mom sighed and she suddenly punched my door hard. "What if your _father _is there?"

"Woah, mom…"

"Shaylee! Don't argue with me!"

"I wasn't even starting! For God's sake…"

"I'm just terrified, okay!"

"About what? The fact that dad might be at the scene of crime? It's nothing new, is it, mom?"

"Of course not, but…he hasn't come home since this morning! Maybe it's because he's been caught there tonight…I _know _what he's like…"

"Why do you even care all of a sudden? You don't even care about dad."

"You think I don't care about your father?"

"I care more than _you _do, mom!"

"You're the one on your ass in here not moving! If you cared you'd be wondering where he was by now, you'd have come asking me! You think your father is so wonderful that he, uhh, _never _gets caught!"

"No! He never gets caught!"

"Well I think…tonight could be different!"

"If you're _that _worried, then why don't you ring his cell phone?"

"He never answers!"

At that moment, I jumped up from my bed and stormed out of my room, pushing mom out of the way. I furiously zipped up my coat and started putting my sneakers on.

"What are you _doing_?!" Mom shouted at me.

"I'm going…to see for myself! To show you there's nothing to worry about!"

"_No_!" Mom grabbed me arm, making me squirm frantically.

"Mom, get _off me_!"

"You are _not _going out there by yourself! Not this late!"

"Yes I am!" I managed to escape from her grasp. I dashed over to the door, but before I could even open it, mom yanked me back by my arm again, firmly holding me backwards. "_Mom_!"

"It's too dangerous!"

"_Mom_! You're hurting me!"

"I need to go there myself."

"You just said it was _dangerous_! Do you have no logic? If he _is _there and in trouble, I'm the one who's going to save him!"

"Are you mad, Shaylee?!"

"NO! I'm _not_ mad!"

"I just think it's better if _I _go…"

"What and try and start and argument with him?!" Once again I freed myself from mom's grasp and I immediately grabbed the door handle.

"Don't you dare, Shaylee…"

I slammed the door in her face and I was off, running down the street. Running and running and running. I sprinted until I reached the end of the road and I peered around the corner, to see the apparent commotion.

In my mind, I still didn't believe that dad was going to be there. The police were down on these streets all the time, so what were the possibilities that dad was going to be there this particular night? I thought it was all in mom's mind. She has those moments all the time, but dad _always _came home eventually.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if mom was following me. Unfortunately, she was. For some reason, she was wearing large high-heeled shoes, which was totally ridiculous, especially being drunk as well. She was never going to catch me up.

I panicked when I saw her shadow, and I quickly ran around the corner. I rushed through the street. I was now beginning to get tired. Once I got to the end, I leaned on the wall, panting hard, before peering around the wall, to where the actual line of shops were.

My heart stopped when I realised mom was right. There were two police cars outside the jewellery store, which was now closed. The door was wide open, but I could see nobody inside because of the terrible dim light in the shop. As I nervously walked my aching legs towards it, I noticed there was one cop guarding the door, as the sirens on the police car was still flashing brightly, almost blinding my 10-year-old eyes. No one was gathered around to witness the commotion, but I did notice some people were nosily staring out of their house windows. I listened closely, hearing a muffled conversation inside, but too unclear to see if it was dad's voice.

The cop looked startled when he saw me walk up towards the store. I curiously gazed into the window, to see if I could witness anything interesting, while he watched me, making sure I wouldn't cause any trouble. As if I would.

"Excuse me, young lady," the cop said, backing me off a bit. "We have to ask you to stay back."

"I'm sorry," I huffed. "I'm here to find my dad."

He started at me in wonder, and at that moment I heard the sound of mom's high heels bashing the pavement behind me. I wheeled around in horror and she stumbled towards me, nearly collapsing onto me in her awful drunken state. She violently grabbed my shoulder, making me jerk backwards.

"Shaylee, what did I tell you?!" she yelled.

"We're here to see if dad's here! I don't even know why you're so worried!" I retorted.

"Hey, hey, lady, stand back, please," the cop ordered, glaring at mom.

"Officer! What happened here?!"

Mom started crying hysterically all of a sudden, making me roll my eyes. She gripped my shoulder so I couldn't escape.

"There's been a robbery here, miss," he explained. "We're investigating it now."

"Has there been any signs of my fiancé? He hasn't come home and, and…my daughter…"

"Miss, please, stand back, we are dealing with this."

The cop tried to remain calm but mom was far from it. She started screaming like maniac.

"No! Please! He's ill…he can't control himself! Please, officer…" she begged.

"There have only been four people spotted at the scene, miss."

"Who?!"

"I can't be sure yet, like I said, we are investigating."

"When did all this happen?"

"We were informed an hour ago by a pedestrian that he believed this store was being shoplifted. He couldn't be sure how many were involved."

"Please, please…" Mom started tugging on his shirt.

"Calm down…"

"NO! I need to know if he's here!"

"If you stand back, we can inform you as soon as we can."

"That's not good enough!"

I groaned loudly, making them both shut their mouths.

"Can't you just let her in, officer?" I asked, sharply.

"Certainly not, young lady. There are dangerous criminals in there…" the cop said.

"But that could be my _dad_! How can you keep a child from seeing their father?!"

I wriggled my way from mom's grasp again and attempted to go into the store, but the cop stood in my way. I could feel my heart racing so suddenly. I started to worry, my mind flooding with the thought that maybe dad _was _actually in there. My ten year old self thought he must've been holding be back because dad was in there and he didn't want me to see him.

"Could you keep your child, away, please?!" the cop ordered at mom, who dragged me backwards.

"Shaylee, come on, honey…" I could hear mom's voice shaking.

"No! Let go of me!"

Mom pulled me back out of the way, before shoving her face right into mine.

"Listen to me, they're not going to let us in until they've investigated further…I'm _so _pissed off because I don't know…we'll just have to wait…"

"But mom, if dad _was _there, wouldn't they have arrested him by now? And what's with fat face guarding the door? They should have more than one!"

"They would if there was a bigger crowd."

"I don't care! Dad would've come out by now…"

Suddenly, a deafening scream exploded in the store. It wasn't a scream of fright, it was a scream of anger. I recognised it anywhere. It was followed by a huge uproar in the shop. I don't know why, but I clung onto mom as I continued to hear the frightening noise coming from inside. The cop outside immediately went in to help, making me run towards the door.

That scream, it...it sounded like dad.

"_Shaylee_!" Mom shrieked, as she grabbed my arm, once again stopping me in my tracks.

I looked up at her, my eyes filling up with tears. Mom's eyes were red, she was still struggling to stand upright.

"You were right," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"What?"

"He's in there."

Mom's eyes widened as he she quickly glanced up towards the shop. Her voice shook a little. I'd never seen such emotion from her before, and she wasn't even sober.

"Shaylee," she said, not looking at me. "Stay here. Do not move. _Promise me_."

"Mom…"

"Stay here."

That wasn't a command. That was pleading.

"Okay," I whimpered.

Mom shot off, tripping into the shop's entrance.

Stay there, Shaylee. Just stay. No. Please. No more seeing red.

I continued to hear the yells and screams coming from inside the shop. I didn't hear any conversations, just noise.

Stay, Shaylee. Do not move.

My mind rewound back to the angry scream as I stepped backwards, away from the racket. Was that dad? It certainly sounded like it. I'd heard it before. Although, it couldn't have been. That scream sounded much more demonic and controlling, dad's seemed calmer, even though it most certainly was _not _calm.

Please let it not be dad in there.

Do not move, Shaylee. Do as your mom says.

Fuck you brain! You can't follow _any _rules, can you?!

I nervously sauntered towards the store door, dragging my feet along the pavement. It was a warm night, but I started to shiver. I hugged myself as I stood outside the door.

_Come on, Shaylee, you normally have the guts. Walk in, find out for yourself. You're acting pathetic._

Shut up. No, mom said to stay put.

I listened closely. The first clear thing I heard was:

"Drop the gun now!"

"Stay _back_! I will _shoot_!"

That's when my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. That _was _dad. He was being 'interrogated' the police. Damn it, mom was right all along. He _had _been caught this time.

My ribcage felt like it could burst because my heart was beating so fast. The tears rolled down my cheeks, as I put my fingers to my mouth. I was trying to hold it back, they could _not _hear me.

"Drop the gun, let her go, we can handle this…" one of the cops said, calmly.

"_No_! She's the reason I'm doing this!" Dad shouted.

That familiar scraping gasp of mom's flooded my ears next.

"Take them, we'll deal with this one," another cop instructed.

At that moment, two cops pushed out two handcuffed men out of the shop's entrance, forcing them into one of the police cars. I jumped a little as they walked past me. One cop drove the car off with the sirens blaring, as the other went back in. However, just before he stepped in he stared at me. He had a long moustache with glasses, and a chock of brown hair. We didn't say anything to one another, but with my eyes I expressed how desperate I was for them to let my dad go. I _hated _acting all pathetic, but if dad was taken away, my mind would be out of control for good.

The cop slowly walked back in, where dad was stilling yelling.

I heard the cop say to another, "Matt, there's…there's a child…out there."

"What?"

"A child. Outside."

"What child?"

"A little girl. I-I…I don't know where she's come from…"

"Ahh, shit…"

"Shaylee?" I heard dad say.

"What is she _doing_?" Mom cried.

"You…you bought _Shaylee with you_?!" Dad roared.

"She came running out the doorway, she didn't believe you'd be here…I _told _her _not _to come out!"

"Are you _stupid_?! Shaylee..."

I shuffled backwards. No way were they getting hold of me.

I heard a sudden eruption of screaming from dad, and a mom's body slam to the floor. The cops yelled at him, but his screaming overpowered all of them.

"Shaylee! _Shaylee_! SHAYLEE!" he bawled.

"Dad?" I whispered.

"Mr. Napier, we are arresting you, you have the right to remain silent…" the cops were saying.

"_No_! NO NO!" Dad cried. "My daughter! _Shaylee_!"

_Shaylee, fight back. He's your dad. Fight for what's right_.

No.

_Fight, Shaylee_.

I stormed into the shop, and saw dad being held back firmly by the cops. They were attempting to walk him out of the shop, but dad was just too strong for two of them to push him out. Mom was on the floor, gasping for air, next to dad's gun, the very same one I'd used two years ago. She was glaring at me, furiously. Dad fought both of them off and came running towards me as the two cops fell to the floor.

"_Shaylee_!" he called.

"Dad? _Dad_!" I wailed.

The two cops had managed to climb to their feet held dad back again, this time keeping a strong grip on his hands so he couldn't escape. I could barely see because the tears blurred my vision.

"No! _No_! Get off me! _Shaylee_!"

_Fight back, Shaylee._

"I'm not letting them take you, daddy!" I cried, running towards him.

Dad fiercely punched one of the cops in the face, as he broke free from their grasps again. I saw the cop fall to the floor unconscious with his nose streaming red blood, as the other missed him while dad ran towards me, who had my arms outstretched like I was a four years old. Dad lifted me off my feet and I hid myself in his shoulder. I may have been ten but I was still small for my age, small enough for dad to lift me from my feet. He kept me rested on his hip, while I felt him dash to another place.

Then he stopped.

Everything stopped.

Then all I could hear was dad's panting, as well as my own crying into his shoulder. I could hear my heart ripping out of my ribcage. I then heard dad's gun load, so I tightly closed my eyes and prepared myself for the gunshot.

"So, you gonna try and get me again now, huh?" Dad threatened. I guessed he was pointing the gun towards the cop. "You gonna use physical force now, while I have a little girl in my arms?"

"Please, Mr. Napier, just put the gun down, and we can–"

"Why should I? You're here, practically _attacking_ me, trying to take me away. For what? Because I was involved in a little robbery? People like you make me sick. I suppose you hate scum like me, huh? Because all we do is run around and nick things. Aren't you forgetting somethin'? Some people…have a motivations. You know? The four of us had different ones, but _mine_, if you must know, is to provide for this little one right here. Not _her_, on the floor over there. She _pretends_ to be worried, but it's just a cry for attention. _She's _the one you should be arresting. For child neglect."

"He's lying!" Mom yelled.

"Ahh, you see? She immediately denies it! How funny." There was a horribly tense pause. "I could do it, you know." I heard the cop gasp. "I could shoot you. But then what would happen, huh?" Nothing was said for a few seconds. I gripped upon dad's shirt for protection. Even though he had a gun in his hand, I knew I was safe in dad's arms. "You've got two of us. One of us has done one. Speaking of which, you weren't successful catching _her_, now were ya? Wherever could she be?"

Her?

I was waiting for the moment dad would shoot. Instead I felt us moving backwards.

Dad turned his head and leaned it on mine.

"Do you have your eyes closed, baby?" he whispered. I nodded my head, not moving from my position. "Good girl. I don't want you to see anything right now." I could feel his hot breath on my face. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell he was grinning right now. I knew he had a trick up his sleeve. We moved fowards again, this time at a slow, tense pace. "Hmm, you're not a very good cop, are ya?" Dad laughed. "None of you are. So…_pathetic_."

"Put the child down," the cop pleaded, like a coward.

I heard dad chuckle quietly. I didn't move, but I slight smile appeared on my face.

Suddenly, dad cried, "_Harleen_!"

Who's Harleen?

I didn't know, of course. I couldn't tell what she looked like at that moment, because dad told me not to look. I _can_, in fact, tell you what she sounded like. The moment dad called her name, I heard an annoying high-pitched squeal fill up the room. It drew closer and closer, her dirty laughter along with her squealing. Dad and I moved backwards, with dad laughing maniacally.

"_Hi_, officer!" Harleen cried in a ridiculously high-pitched voice. "Gee, it's amazing who you can come across with doin' _your_ job, eh?"

I couldn't really remember what happened after that, other than hearing dad and 'Harleen' laugh like maniacs as there were lots of punches and kicks. The cop yelling in pain and his body flopping onto the floor. I guessed she was beating up the cop. She succeeded, too. Goddamn. I mean, after a few moments I heard nothing but their laughter, which began to grow on me. It almost sounded beautiful. I started giggling along with them.

"It's okay to look now, beautiful," Dad whispered to me. I tensely perked my head up and gazed at dad's face. He'd been sweating like a pig, his eyes were red, but he still managed to grin at me. Harleen was still laughing uncontrollably. I didn't want to look at her, so I just looked at dad. "That's why you always gotta plan ahead," he giggled. "Wouldn't be anywhere without my Harleen."

"Aw, ya too kind!" Harleen said. Mom coughed loudly. I completely forgotten she was still there. "_Diana_!" Harleen cried. "Hiya, babe!"

How did she know _mom_? I dug my head back into dad's shoulder again, still refusing to look at her.

"What are _you _doing here?" Mom asked, totally baffled.

"Just helping out Jack, ya know," she replied, giggling.

"Jack?" Mom questioned.

"Relax, Di," Dad said. "She's just a good friend."

"My ass," Mom scoffed.

"How rude!" Harleen snapped.

"Ahhh, okay, let's get you home Shaylee," Dad said, as I felt us move again. "You comin', Harleen?"

"Shouldn't you be asking _me _if I want to come home, Jack?!" Mom cried out.

"It's not all about you!" Harleen yelled.

"Ah, do what you like, Diana," Dad said. "I'm not bothered after tonight. What were you _doing_? Just because it's late you'd thought I'd been arrested? Hate to break it to you, love, but…I didn't!" Harleen laughed loudly in response, making my skin crawl. "I _was _going to come home, you know! I planned for all four of us to escape, but, no, now two have us have gone because you dented our strategy! But you bought _Shaylee_ with you!"

"Poor girl!" Harleen said.

"Shut up a minute, Harls," Dad snapped.

"She _wanted _to come and find you!" Mom yellled.

"Oh, _such _a remarkable effort you made keeping her at home!" Dad snarled. "She could've got hurt! She could've been taken away from us! They'll be trying to do that now! Not that you'd care anyway."

I couldn't stand this any longer.

"Dad, please don't argue," I mumbled. He said nothing. "Just take me home. Please, dad."

Dad held my head, closer to his shoulder. "Alright, I'm sorry, princess. Let's get you home. I'm sorry." He squeezed me tightly. "I'm _so _sorry…"

"Shaylee!" Mom called.

"I don't want to talk to you," I said to mom, as calm as possible.

Harleen burst out laughing again. "Such a cute little girl you have, Di! How come _I've _never met her?"

"You're only interested in _Jack_!" Mom shouted.

I could feel dad's impatience. "Are you coming or not?!" he yelled. "Before these guys wake up and _then_ you'll be in trouble."

"Aw, Jackey, can't I just have a _little _catch up with my old friend?" Harleen asked.

"Do what you want. But I'm taking Shaylee home, I'm not hanging around."

"Wait for me then, Jack," Mom called, but then I heard her gasp in surprise.

"Ahh no no no no no…" Harleen giggled. "You're staying with _me_!"

"Let go of me! You're crazy!"

Their voices drowned out as we moved further away, with dad casually shutting the door behind him, like he'd just paid a normal visit to the shop. I slowly lifted my head, as I saw dad put his gun inside his jack pocket. He looked at me, smiling, but also looking extremely guilty. It was so strange. It felt like that scene of horror had never happened. Dad was suddenly calm. The monster inside of him had been killed, but I was sure it would rise from the dead again soon.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked, as we turned the corner, away from the scene of crime.

"I…yes…I am."

"It's okay not to be, you know." He smiled at me, kindly.

"I was so scared, dad. I was so scared."

"I know, I know…" he shushed me as he jumped me on his hip. "I was too, honey."

"Were you?"

"Of course I was. Didn't you see me?"

"But you're _never _scared."

"I wasn't letting you get hurt, Shaylee. Not on my life."

"Daddy, it's _my_ fault. I didn't believe mom and I ran away, I didn't think you'd even be there, I'd thought you'd be in the city…I, I…I shouldn't have…"

"Hey, come on, you know what she's like. I keep telling you, if I'm not back before half nine she goes sick because she thinks I've murdered someone or something like that. I_ was _going to come home…we just had a little delay, that's all."

"I tried to tell her that!"

"I'm sure you did."

"Are you okay, now, daddy?"

"Of course I am, of course I am…my head's still going a bit, but…"

"Mine too."

"Our stupid minds, eh, baby?"

I smiled as I nuzzled up to his shoulder.

We then arrived back at the flat, with the door unlocked. We both got ready for bed immediately.

But here's the part that made me curious: Mom didn't come home. And I swear to you, just before I went to bed, I heard a very, very distant explosion.

I thought it was all in my head.

It wasn't. This wasn't my mind playing tricks again.

That was real.

I told you I wasn't crazy.


	7. Getaway!

_**This is an important chapter, as it does move the story on a little.**_

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Getaway!**

"Dad?"

I peered through dad's bedroom door. He was lying face down on his bed, his covers carelessly hanging over onto the floor. His head was under his pillow, and he tightly gripped his pillow over his head with his hands and his body was completely stiff. The side lampshade was dimly lit, enlarging his shadow on the wardrobe.

"Dad?" I whispered again as I looked through the gap in his door. He stirred slightly, but he remained silent. I thought I should leave him, but I was determined to prove my mind wasn't playing tricks. I tiptoed into the room and stood beside his bed, silently stepping over the covers on the floor. Dad kept his face hidden, not making a sound. "Daddy?" I said, nudging his shoulder slightly.

Then I heard him sigh quietly.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice muffled under the pillow.

"Did you hear a…uh…"

"What?"

"Did you hear, like a, faint bang just then?"

Dad then removed his face from under the pillow, curiously looking at me.

"Well, I can barely hear anything under here, darlin'," he chuckled.

"Dad, I'm serious."

He paused, as he nervously rubbed his face, before putting his hand closed over his mouth. He stared at my serious face for a while.

"Are you sure it's not just…you know…" Dad whispered, removing his hand from his mouth.

"It's not my head!" I yelled.

"Alright, alright, calm down…" Dad said calmly, sitting up.

"I promise I heard something!" I cried.

Dad continued to stare at me. "An explosion?" he asked.

"Yes, I heard it, it was far away…" I replied, nodding my head.

"Ahh, it was probably Harleen blowing something up," Dad said, smiling. "Unless it was a gunshot, but…it can't have been. She didn't have a gun…Not that I saw..."

"_Blowing something up_?"

"Yeah, she's like that."

I paused. "Dad…who _is _that Harleen lady?"

Dad's smiled faded and he started to fidget. His eyes nervously looked around the room before coming back to me, who looked at him, questionably.

"She's, uh…she's a friend," he finally said.

"A friend?" I sounded shocked.

"Yeah…yeah…"

"How does she know mom, though?"

Dad sighed heavily, before gently taking my hand. His weary eyes looked straight into mine.

"Do you really wish to know?" he asked.

"Yeah…"

"Okay. I _was _going to tell when…when you were older, but…maybe you _do_ need to know…I'll tell you tomorrow when we have some time alone, huh? Your mother's going to be raving mad tomorrow…"

"She hasn't even come home…"

"Ahh, don't worry, Shay, she'll be…she'll be _home_. When Harleen starts talking, she can't stop. She's probably gotcha mother tied down listening to her."

Dad started giggling quietly, looking downwards, shyly.

"Dad?" I said.

He coughed loudly, making me jump and he let go of my hand, before getting himself comfortable again.

"Right, young lady, to bed," he said. "You need sleep. I'm locking this door, no way am I letting your mother in here tonight. If you hear her raging around, just ignore her. She's not worth it."

He slumped his head back on his pillow and turned his face away again.

I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly leaned down, and very gently kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, dad," I whispered.

He didn't say anything as I walked out, but just before I shut the door, I glanced over at him and saw he was smiling, making me do just the same. I couldn't believe I did that.

That night, I curled myself in my bed and starting dreaming up ideas about who this Harleen was. I thought back to her funny high-pitched voice and the annoying remarks she made at dad. Even a ten year old like me could make the obvious conclusion she was crazy. I thought dad was crazy even at that time, but he was normal compared to her. Although their laughter seemed so harmonious, it almost sounded the same. Maybe she was copying him, maybe she wanted to be like him and that's why she beat up the cop for him.

At least I didn't have to think about her for that long. I fell asleep within minutes.

I was hoping to get a well-deserved lie in the next morning, but things can never go my way, can they?

At around 9am, I was woken up by dad banging deafeningly on my door, waking me immediately.

"Shaylee?" he called. His voice was filled with worry.

I sat up, ruffling my hair as I did so. "Yes…?" I moaned.

"Are you up?"

"I am now."

"Get _up_! Come in the sitting room right now! There's something…." His voice trailed off. I could hear his shaky sighs, making me alert.

"Okay, I'm coming. What's _wrong_?" I said.

"Just…just…just come with me, _please_."

I threw my covers to one side and got out of bed. Dad wasn't there when I stepped out of my bedroom, rubbing my eyes. I peered through the wide-open kitchen door, to look for mom, but there was no sign of her. I crept into their bedroom to find her, but she was still nowhere to be seen.

I started to panic.

That's when I finally rushed into the sitting room, where dad was surprisingly sat directly in front of the television, gazing at the screen in front of him, still in his pyjamas and his hair frizzy in front of his face. I stood stiff in the doorway. He didn't look at me.

Gotham News was on the TV, but I was so shocked by dad weirdly sat there, that I didn't catch what was on the news.

Finally, I managed to stutter, "D-Dad?"

He didn't move.

"Dad?" I said again. My heart began to pound. "Dad what's wrong?"

Then he sighed quietly and closed his eyes.

"Come sit down," he said, blankly.

I wasn't going to question him, so I immediately sat next to him. His eyes were still glued to the TV, and he began to look very worried.

"Dad, is everything okay?" I asked, quietly. "What's going-?"

"Shhh," he said, softly. "Just watch. It's the second item up."

I looked at the News on the TV, where they proceeded to talk about something totally boring. I kept making worried glances at dad, who didn't move a muscle. He didn't utter a word to me.

Then the second item came up, so I paid close attention. It was obviously very important if dad had woken me up just to watch it. I felt my hands becoming sweaty as I wiped them on my t-shirt. Dad still didn't move.

The story began.

"A woman has been found dead at a scene of crime in Gotham Town, following a robbery at a jewellery store."

My heart stopped.

"The woman, who has been identified as Diana Jane Jenson, was witnessed being shot dead by Harleen Frances Quinzel by the police, and afterwards she attempted to blow up the store. Quinzel was later arrested. Police are still investigating Quinzel's motivation and her prison sentence is yet to be confirmed. The robbery at Goldie's Jewels in Gotham Town took place last night, where two men were arrested and one other escaped after threatening Officer Matthew Grayson with a gun. More information about the scene is yet to confirmed, however, it is known that Quinzel was working with the three men and she confessed to be an acquaintance of the victim Diana Jenson. As of now, the police are searching for the getaway man, who was later identified as Jack Napier."

My heart sunk like a ton of bricks.

"Oh my God…" my trembling voice whispered.

I put my quivering finger to my mouth, making my tongue bleed as I desperately tried not to cry.

Dad sat there wide-eyed and slightly open-mouthed. Dad finally glanced at me.

"Shaylee…" he whispered, his voice shaking horribly.

I started panting uncontrollably and I could feel that horrible pain inside of me, so I quickly covered my eyes. I shut them tightly, biting my lips harder.

Mom. Oh, mom.

I felt dad grab my arm. "Shaylee..." he said again, as he forcefully moved it away from my face.

I didn't want to look at him.

"Look at me," he said, harshly.

Very tensely, I lifted my head up to look at him. He lifted my chin up and used that familiar serious tone again.

"Listen to me, Shay," he instructed. "Listen. Now, don't cry, don't cry…come on…I know, I know, it's…it's a bit of a shock, but listen…this is what you're going to do. Go to your room, grab your suitcase, and get your stuff together."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What? Dad, why…?" I whimpered.

"Shh-hh-hh…just do as I say, right? Look, there's only one way we can get through this." He paused, looking at me expectantly. "_Go on_."

I shot out of the room and immediately did as I was told. God knows what dad was planning to do, but I was too scared to question him. It was rare I used my suitcase because we never _ever _went away.

I pulled it out from under my bed and starting rushing to pack my things, constantly putting my hands to my head and panting hard. My mind was banging furiously, making me untidily pack my belongings. I gathered all of the things I loved as well as clothes, like my special pens and paper. I also got dressed but I was in such a state that I didn't bother making myself look half decent.

Once I'd gotten everything, I unzipped my case and I sat on my bed, in complete silence. I didn't listen out for anything. I didn't _need _to. There were too many noises yelling in my head already. Dad and Harleen's hysterical laughter from the previous evening kept replaying in my mind, the noise increasing more and more and more. It was overshadowed quickly by mom's voice, followed by a deafening gunshot and then mom's familiar yelling I was so used to, the shrill scream and her nagging and shouting and shouting and shouting and…

"_Shut up_! _Shut up, mom_! SHUT UP! You're not even here anymore! _Get lost_!"

It got louder and louder until I had to cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. I fell onto my knees on my bedroom floor, my hands tightly gripping my head.

_Block out the sound, Shaylee. Fight back. It'll drown it out._

"Please! _Just shut up_! _Mom_!"

It was so thunderous in my mind and my piercing screams were racking the walls so much, I didn't hear my bedroom door being kicked down by dad.

The next thing I remember was fluttering my eyes open to see dad looking down on me. My eyes were filled with tears. I was laying on dad's lap in the middle of my bedroom floor. My head was still racking slightly, making me yell out loud a couple of times, but dad shushed me and softly stroked my hair to keep my calm. By his side was his own small backpack, and he was dressed in one of those purple suits with a green checked tie.

"Dad? Dad, what happened to me?!" I shouted, as I clung onto him.

"You just had a little breakdown, honey," Dad whispered. "It's okay. I'm here."

"Oh, dad. Daddy, _why_? Dad…dad why won't they _stop_?" I screamed, as the tears continued to roll down my cheeks. Dad gently wiped them away with his freezing cold hands.

"Shhh, Shaylee, it's okay," he whispered, soothingly. "Don't listen to _any of them_. They're not real. It's _all _in your head."

"Dad, they won't….they _won't_…"

I sobbed into his arms and he held me close to his chest.

"Baby, I know it's horrible," he said, gently. "You think I haven't had the same problem?" He rested his head on mine. "The voices…they're not real, they're just the most evil thing you could possibly get, there to make your life a misery. And people say I'm scum? They don't know what it's like…to have _voices_…I tell ya, Shaylee, if only they _knew_…you're a little girl going through the worst thing in the world, and I mean that. This is _much_ worse than you getting bullied or you failing your grades. You're only ten years old. They have _no _idea. They can do _nothing_." He sighed. "Come on, now, princess…it's _all _okay now, hmm?" I sniffled as I nervously wrapped my arms around my father. We stayed there for a couple of minutes as the voices faded away, one by one. I eventually looked up at dad, who stroked my cheek as he smiled at me, proudly. "Better now, darlin'?" he asked. I nodded as I wiped another tear away. I sighed heavily as I calmed myself down. "Okay," Dad said. "You have everything ready?" It had slipped my mind that I'd packed a suitcase. I stood up and whirled around, gripping the suitcase and nearly falling over. "Hey, hey, hey, take it easy…" Dad said, holding my shoulders. "Calm down, now."

I sighed again as put my left hand on my head.

"Dad, where are we going?" I asked quietly, not looking at him.

"To the city," he replied, simply.

I shot my head up at him. "Why?"

"Well…" Dad lifted my chin up again, as his voice became more serious, making me pay attention. "You heard the news, didn't you? I…I don't really know what to think. Most of it is probably bullshit. Harleen would've been arrested, yeah, but…"

"So you don't think mom's dead?" I asked.

"Well…yeah, she…she probably is. They…they say they're 'investigating' her motivation? Bullshit. They _know _that she works with me…"

"What?"

"Yeah, yeah…you see, we've worked together a lot...one time…we were in the city, and we got caught mugging this guy…"

"Mugging?"

"Stealing something from this guy, basically, Shay, yeah? And I got away, and poor Harleen, she was caught, but she claimed I forced her to do it. I never did. _That _got us both into trouble. Mind you, this was quite a while ago…when you were about four, honey. So anyway…we _both _got arrested but managed to get away with it…it's a long story why. It doesn't matter, does it? Anyway, they _know _we work together, she's a little idiot and she always falls for helping me. She's even _said _to the cops she does all this stuff to please me…Personally, I just think she's _crazy_. Last night she was a little crazier than usual. She probably _did _shoot your mom, but…our plan was never to blow up the place. That proves just how mad she's turning out to be. Anyway…they're coming for me…they didn't even _mention _you were at the scene and _that's_…that's good, I guess, but, as soon as they find me, they'll take you away. I'm not having that. My job is to protect and provide for you, isn't it, Shaylee?"

"Y-Yes."

"Yes. They're not taking you away from me. If you were, all hell would be let loose. _God knows _what I'd turn into…"

"Daddy, I wouldn't _let _them take me away from you…"

"I know you wouldn't, because you're daddy's big tough girl, aren't you?" He winked at me. "But I can't risk it. But really, now the police are looking for me…they know me. And they know I have you, and now Diana…"

Dad's voice trailed off as he sighed, shakily and glanced away from me. He looked like he was about to start crying.

"Daddy?" I said, as I reassuringly held his arm. He looked at me, smiling gratefully.

"Look, I just _know_, honey. They don't let people like me keep a child as young as you. Especially now I'm…" He paused for a while as he glanced upwards. "Now I'm on my own. So, we're going to the City for a little while, to protect ourselves. Until they give up their little search party. There's this place I know, a friend owns it, he'll let us stay there for a while. I'm not letting them find us, Shaylee. You're staying with me, I _swear _to you. When I feel it's safe to come back to the flat, we'll come back, okay?"

"Okay," I said, bravely.

"That's my girl," he said, as he kissed my forehead.

I smiled widely. I loved it when a rare moment like that happened.

Dad flung his bag over his shoulder and ventured into the hallway, where I followed him, dragging my suitcase behind me. He paced up and down the room for ages, ruffling his hair and shuffling his feet. Judging by his movement, I could tell he was very nervous. Dad was only like this when he was _really _worried about something, or if he was in a state of shock. I think it was both of those things in this case.

I still didn't know what to think about mom. The thought of her dead made my stomach turn a little bit, and thinking about it, it did strike a pain inside of me. The fact I could still hear her, though, scared me beyond belief.

I traced him up and down the room with my eyes, before asking, "Dad, are you okay?"

He glanced at me before quickly turning away again. "Yeah, yeah…_of course_."

He grabbed the keys on the table and plunged them into his pocket, before making his way back to me in the doorway again.

"Do me a favour, Shaylee?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Go to my room, and get me my gun, will you?"

I gulped. "Y-Yes, dad."

"It's under the bed." I rushed into his room and retrieved that familiar black gun from under the bed. Just holding it in my hand flooded my mind with memories again. I was just about to head out the room, when dad barged in like a commanding officer and flung open his wardrobe door. He kneeled down and shoved three pots of that face-paint into his arms, before slamming the door shut with his elbow and walking out, followed by me, carefully holding the gun in my right hand. Dad dropped them down on the hallway floor, and then turned to me, grinning when he saw the gun in my hand. "Thank you, precious," he said, as he took it off me.

"That's okay," I said, managing a small smile.

"Will these fit in your case, Shay?" Dad asked, pointing to the face paint.

"Erm, probably," I replied, laying my case on the floor and starting to unzip it.

Dad place his gun inside his jacket pocket as he returned to his bedroom. Luckily, there was just enough room to fit the three pots of face paint in. Dad returned to the hallway as I was struggling to zip up my case again. As I finished, I saw his back turned to me, fiddling with something. I lifted my case back up and stood up with it, just before dad turned around, putting his gun in his pocket again, and then something else inside his jacket.

"Right, okay, are we ready?" he asked.

"Yeah…" I replied.

"Are you okay, baby?" Dad kneeled down.

"Yeah, I am…it just all seems so sudden, dad…"

"Yeah, I know, I know…things have been changing all the time and they're _still _changing…I don't know, if it will _ever _stop. Fuck, our minds are annoying, aren't they?"

"Tell me about it. I just want it to stop."

"They will, you just have to keep calm. Don't panic, stay close to me, and you'll be fine. Okay?"

"Yes, dad."

A smile formed across dad's lips. "Good girl. Okay, let's go."

We walked over to the front door with our cases and dad flicked the light off. He opened the door wide, when I suddenly grabbed his sleeve.

"Wait, dad?" I said.

"What?"

"How are we gonna get there? We don't have a car. Won't people see us…?"

"Hey, hey, calm yourself…it's all gonna be fine. Didn't you know I passed my driving test _years ago_?"

"But…"

"Shaylee, daddy has it _all _worked out."

"So you have a plan?"

Dad paused as he touched my face, smiling a crafty grin at me. "Do I _ever _have a plan?" he chuckled.

It was so nice to her him laugh after such a horrific morning.

"Don't you?" I asked, surprised.

"Hmm, I just…_do _things. I don't have plans, not a lot, not like the cops, who are planning to take my baby off me, which is why I'm going to the City to keep her away from them." He gave me a wink before stepping out of the door and onto the pathway. He strolled out like a badass, and I followed him out, dragging my case behind me. Dad turned around and locked the door, then placing the key inside his long purple coat. He gave me the nod to follow, so I did. "Stay on your toes, Shaylee," he whispered as we began to walk down the street. "And if anyone dares to speak to you, don't give them _any_ information. If they want info, _I'll _give it to 'em."

I nodded. I felt my legs already aching. Just proves how unfit I was.

"Dad, it's going to be such a pain dragging this around all the time," I moaned as we steadily walked down the bland street.

"I know," Dad replied. "Which is why we're getting a little lift."

"What? From who?"

"Shaylee, I told you, I can _drive_." I stared at him curiously, as dad suddenly put his hand in front of me, making us both stop dead in our tracks just before the corner. Dad grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall, managing not to hurt me. He put himself against the wall too, as he peered around the corner. I saw him delicately pull out his gun from his pocket, making me nervous, but also focused. He continued to look around the corner, and pulled up his bag on his shoulder. "Right," he addressed me, lowering his voice. "Stay here. Don't move until I call you, understand?"

"Yes, dad," I answered, immediately.

"_There's_ a good girl."

He slowly walked around the corner until he was out of my sight. I anxiously looked around me, to see if anyone was watching. I knew I had to be alert, I couldn't let anyone catch us. I wasn't stupid.

Once I'd checked to see everything was clear, I looked around the corner to see what dad was up to, still holding my case's handle in my hand. Dad was halfway down the other side of the street, where he was standing near a blue car. The car was parked on the side, and dad was pacing up around it, keeping his gun firmly in his hand, occasionally prodding it. I shuffled my feet, waiting for him to make a move. I glanced over my shoulder many times, to check if no one was going to bother me.

Then I saw dad trying to open the door, but obviously it remained shut. It took him half a second to then shoot the door, where the window of the smashed beautifully. Dad got out of way before then sticking his arm through the window. The gunshot didn't bother me, what bothered me more was the fact dad needed to hurry before someone caught him. Take his advice, stay put, but stay on your toes at all times.

The next thing I knew, the car door could suddenly open and dad skilfully swung it open. He'd obviously managed to unlock it from the inside, which at the time I thought was unbelievable because I didn't have a clue, I hardly ever sat in a car at the time. He'd also managed not to hurt himself on the shattered glass, making me feel much calmer. Dad took a few moments to look around before running back towards me.

I couldn't wait. I dashed out, pulling my case behind me, to meet up with dad. My case bumped uncontrollably on the road as I sprinted to dad, who didn't even have to call my name, my mind knew it was the right time to follow him. We met in the middle, both of us panting hard, as he took my free hand, gripping it tightly. As he held my hand, we dashed like criminal getaways to the car.

"Give me your case," Dad ordered, when we reached the car.

I couldn't lift it, so dad took it off me and carefully pushed in through the smashed window until it landed on the front passenger seat.

Before we could do anymore, we both jumped upon hearing a loud yell coming from a house behind us.

"Hey! What you think you're doing?!" A middle-aged man with a red face barged out from his front door and started running towards his front gate. I clung onto dad, who rolled his eyes before looking down at me.

"Get in the car," he said, as calmly as possible.

"But dad…"

"Just get in, Shaylee, trust me." I didn't argue. Carefully not trying not to touch the smashed glass on the concrete, I opened the car and sat myself in the driver's seat. Dad slammed the door on me and peered at me through the windowless car door. I could still see the man running behind dad, it's a good job he wasn't very fast. "Push that onto the floor," Dad said. "Sit in the other seat."

I pushed down the handle and struggled to shove the bag onto the foot space on the floor. As I was doing that, dad put his back against the car door, facing away from me, ready to meet his hopeless prey.

"What are _you_ doing?!" the man shouted at dad.

Just as I'd managed to complete putting it on the floor and sitting in the other seat, I saw dad point the gun at the man's face, making him back away, helplessly. I thought dad was going to fire his clever comebacks at the man, but surprisingly, he addressed me.

"Shay?" he said.

My heart started beating fast. "Y-Yes?"

"Look out the other window for me, darlin'," he said, his tone now having that mischievousness to it. "Make sure no one's coming."

The craftiness in his voice intrigued me. "Yes, daddy," I replied, beaming, although he couldn't see me.

As I observed in the window, the man continued to try and take on dad.

"Is that _your _child?!" he asked, sounding incredibly stupid.

Dad erupted into boisterous laughter. "Ye-Yes, she's my child! Don't be _silly_ now! Anyway, about your car, can we just…?"

"It's not my car," the man replied.

"It's not?" Dad laughed even harder.

"No…"

I couldn't help but turn around to see his expression. I started giggling when I saw him with his hands up in the air. Dad was now closer to him, laughing in his face and still clutching the gun.

"Then – then _why _you come running over asking us about it? Huh?" Dad asked, loudly.

"B-Because…I wasn't going to let you just steal a car, was I?"

"Ha! Watching me through your window was you now, huh? Nosey parker!" That's when I burst out laughing too. Dad's comebacks just cracked me up every time. It was so good to have a laugh after such an awful morning. "Funny, ain't it, Shay," Dad continued, "how people like this think they can _save the day _when actually they're…just…pathetic? So why don't you run along, and let me get my little girl to the city for safety?"

Dad then violently grabbed him by the neck, making me lean closer on my seat. I don't know why, but this scene was so captivating to me. It was like one of dad's stories coming to life before my eyes.

"Please…please," the man cried. "Just, please, don't hurt me…"

"Isn't that interesting, baby?!" Dad called to me. The man looked completely terrified, and dad wasn't even at his most angry. "He's suddenly turned into a _scaredy-cat_! I _could_ hurt you, you know….but you could have a wife and kids in that house. I'm not _that_ heartless. I've just lost _my _fiancée…trust me. It's…it's not _pretty_." Dad's voice had suddenly turned dangerous, like his usual unpredictable self, so I sat back again and gripped onto the door handle. I wasn't scared, but I was just preparing for a gunshot at any moment. I knew what dad was like, after all. Dad paused for a long while, and I glanced out the window again. I couldn't believe no one else was around, but then again they wouldn't dare come near dad who was holding a man at gunpoint in broad daylight. "_But_…if you let me go and run away like a little coward, I'll leave you be…and _don't _threaten me with 'I'm calling the police' because then you _will _die. Is that clear?" Dad said in his scary voice.

I looked back again to see what would happen. The man didn't say anything, he was just whimpering like a pathetic loser, a bit like mom did when dad had held by the throat. The gun was digging into his neck by now, which I guess made it a little harder to speak, but, I just thought to myself, is _anyone _actually not a coward in this godforsaken town?

I heard dad sigh heavily.

"What should I do, Shaylee?" he called to me.

I stuttered pathetically, as I was unprepared for dad to fire questions at me. Although I could not look into his eyes at that moment, I knew that they were probably sparkling with the urge to kill.

"Uhh...what do _you _think?" my silly answer was.

"Well, can we _trust _this man?" Dad asked, poking the gun in his throat more.

_Look at him, Shaylee, he's nothing but a goodie two shoes. He'll ring the police as soon as he gets in his house, and you know what that means. They'll take you away from your dad, Shaylee. He's not worth it_.

"I don't think so, daddy," I replied, sweetly.

"Ahh, _now there's _a good judge of character, my Shaylee!" Dad chuckled as he pushed the man onto the cold pavement, and spat on him. The man yelled in pain, I guessed that was from the shattered glass on the walkway.

"Please!" the man cried. "I won't do _anything_…I swear! Just don't hurt me!"

"You _need _to lighten up, man," Dad said, pointing the gun at him. "Let me tell ya, you messed with the _wrong guy_, this morning. Did you really expect me to just give up the car, when I have a duty to take my daughter somewhere _safe_?!" He paused. By now I was on the driver's seat, leaning over to witness the action. Dad turned his head slightly to speak to me. "Remember what I said to you last night?" he said. "Close your eyes, I don't want you to see anything, Shaylee. This is _not _something for a lady to witness." I giggled and did as I was told. I climbed back onto the passenger seat and covered my ears, preparing for the gunshot. "Why so serious?" Dad laughed.

"_Please_…" the man uttered his final words.

_Bang_.

Thank goodness this time it didn't start my head racking and making the voices argue.

Dad quickly got into the car and slammed the door behind him.

"_Alright_, I want to drive!" Dad yelled, placing his gun inside his pocket again.

I'd now positioned myself in the passenger seat againand sat there casually, as if a scene of murder had never happened. Dad glanced at me and I looked back up at him, smiling. Then my smile faded as I realised we had no keys to start the car.

"Wait, dad, how are we going to start the car?!" I cried.

Dad chuckled as he fiddled inside one of his pockets inside his jacket. "You think I didn't plan ahead?" he said, with a crafty grin.

"I thought you didn't plan," I replied, confused.

"Shush, you," Dad laughed. "Look."

He revealed a golden key from his pocket, making me open-mouthed. Dad placed it into the keyhole and the engine started roaring.

"Dad, what? How…? What is _that_? What…?" I spluttered.

"Don't ask, honey," he answered. "Just _go with it_."

Although I was still totally amazed, I decided to take his advice. I scuffled in my seat, preparing for the journey. I heard dad cough loudly.

"Shaylee?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Seatbelt." I sighed and quickly strapped myself in and dad did the same. "Don't want you flying out the window and joining him, now would I?" Dad laughed as he finally got the car going.

Before we knew it we zoomed off through the streets of our grey Gotham Town, zooming past the bleak buildings and past Little Hill Elementary, and I looked at it in disgust when we drove past. Because the glass from the driver's seat window has completely gone, we had a constant gush of wind blasting through the car, sending my hair out of control and it wasn't helping dad's hair much either. Dad dashed through the roads full speed ahead, making cars beep from left, right and centre, but he didn't care. His face was one of pure delight, so he was driving uncontrollably. My feet were resting on top of my suitcase below me. Although I loved observing the streets through my window and feeling my hair in the wind, I couldn't help but worry. Yes, we were strapped in, dad wasn't that stupid, but with his adrenaline rush I didn't feel safe at all. Plus, he didn't want to be caught speeding, the police were on his tracks already.

We'd just come out of Gotham Town and was heading onto the motorway to the City, when I finally plucked up my courage.

"Dad?" No answer. "Dad!" I shouted.

He shot his head up at me. "Yes, darlin', what is it?"

I could barely hear him because of the wind drowning out our voices.

"Dad, is it okay for you to be driving?" I asked, making my voice clearer.

"Yes, yes, of course it is, I have a licence, Shay, like I said."

"What?"

"I have a licence!"

"Oh right."

"Why?"

"I was just wondering are you well enough to be driving?!"

"What?"

"Are you well enough, dad?!"

"Yes! I'm _fine_! I'm not ill, sweetheart, I _told _you."

"Shouldn't you slow down?!"

"Slow down? Nah, I'm getting to the City as soon as I can!"

"But won't we get caught?"

"Sorry?"

"I said won't we get caught, daddy?"

"_No_! Never! Like I said, they're useless, and if they're looking for me they'll start in the town, that's why we're moving!"

"How long will we be in the car?"

"How long? Uhh...well with my driving, darlin', we shouldn't be _too _long! Oh and by the way, when we get to this secret place where we're staying, don't be scared, you know…"

"Scared?" I started laughing.

"What's so funny, hmm?"

"I'm not scared of anything, daddy!" I said, proudly.

"Nothing _at all_?!"

"Well…I'm scared of mom…"

Dad's smile faded as he stared ahead into the road. He went deep into thought. I sat quietly, starting to fidget with my clothes again.

Finally, dad said, just clear enough for me to hear him, "Yeah…yeah, I know you were."

"I still am," I said, truthfully.

Not another word was said for about 15 minutes. Dad continued to drive ahead, as I gazed out of the window, waving to random people in their cars. Sometimes little kids waved back to me, but most of the time I got disgusted looks. Dad was right. Why _were _people so serious?

It wasn't long until we entered Gotham City. This was my first time visiting the place. I was amazed when we drove through the busy traffic. I traced the buildings on my window with my hands, trying to count all the windows on the huge skyscrapers. There were thousands of people scurrying through the streets, pushing and shoving. Most people looked happy, I saw many cheerful couples skip down the street holding hands, making me imagine mom and dad when they first met. There weren't many police cars around, but I noticed the odd cop dotted around the City. The sky was blue and cloudless that day, but I didn't feel hot because of the wind coming into the car. I felt like I'd entered a different world, because this _was _a different world to me. I wasn't used to overcrowded streets and thousands of huge stores and people looking sort of cheerful. I felt very peculiar.

My emotions were all over the place that day. To first being sort of heartbroken, to absolutely distraught (hence the breakdown), to being panicked, to then be laughing with dad as he totally gave that guy a piece of his mind. I know at I should have felt petrified at that scene, like I had been the night mom and I found dad and Harleen robbing the jewellery store, but I didn't for some reason. Maybe it was because I knew dad was in control and we were going to get out safe, the night before was different. I felt like dad could have been taken away at any moment, making me terrified.

We'd been driving through the streets for at least 10 minutes, when finally dad spoke.

"Put the radio on, Shay," he said.

I tried to work out how to work the damn thing, but it didn't take me long. Soon we had the radio blasting _such _a depressing song, making both of us silent.

The music continued playing as we drove through the busy traffic. Soon we got to the end of a road, and I was expecting dad to follow the rest of the traffic to the right, but instead, he turned sharply the other way, startling me. I screamed a little as we turned down this mysterious road, following some loud beeps behind us, but dad just laughed them off.

A catchy rock song started playing and dad turned it up on full volume, making it impossible for me to hear anything else. Dad was head banging along to the riffs as we carefully headed into this extremely narrow road which seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere. The road was empty, with no person in sight. On the left were a line of crusty old buildings that looked like they were starting to fade away. There was a huge sign on the right which clearly read 'No Parking' but when was dad ever going to listen? Dad was so into the music, he nearly scraped the side of the car on the buildings because of the narrow road.

Then dad stopped the car when we got right to the end, a fence blocking off the rest of the road. Dad turned the car off, and the music died down. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, before looking at me, who was looking quite flustered. I was already overwhelmed by the huge city, which already set my heart racing, but suddenly being cramped in a street like this made it beat even harder. I glanced around, anxiously, before finally looking to dad, who was grinning at me.

"We're _here_!" he cried, nudging my chin. I didn't know what to say, so I kept quiet. "This is it," Dad continued, pointing out of my window. "Joey's."

I looked out the window to see a red-brick building with the roof hanging on an end. The sign that read simply 'Joey's' was barely readable. The door was wide open, but I could see nothing inside. I unstrapped my seatbelt and peered out the window even more.

"Where are we?" I asked dad, nervously.

"Our new home for a little while," Dad replied.

"It doesn't look much like a house."

"It's not, Shay, it's an old tavern. A good friend of mine still lives here, although it's not a business anymore. Come on, let's go." We both got out of the car, carefully trying not to hit the door on the wall. Dad walked round to my side and helped me drag my suitcase out. I slammed the door and dad locked it from the inside again. I stayed very still, unsure what to do. Dad joined me, rummaging in his pockets. Much to my disappointment, he got out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth, followed by revealing a lighter. Dad looked at me, who had my arms folded, glaring at him. "Honey, look," he sighed. "It's all okay isn't it?"

"Mmm," I mumbled.

"I'll just have this and we'll go in," he replied, as he began to light it.

I was starting to get frustrated, not with dad, but with myself. I was getting angry because I was terrified to walk into this new place. Whilst dad damaged his lungs, I stroked the brittle walls of Joey's Tavern, glancing upwards and observing my new 'home.' I didn't enter, but I stood in the doorway, peering into what was just darkness. I couldn't believe this guy would leave his door wide open, but then I guessed if he was _dad's _friend, he'd give the clueless wanderer a piece of his mind.

Dad threw the cigarette on the floor and stamped on it, laughing hard. I started giggling with him, too.

"What's funny, dad?" I giggled.

"Nothing," he said, cheerfully, as he flung his own bag over his shoulder. I wondered what had happened to that bag, but I didn't ask about it. "Come on, then." I grabbed the handle of my case, as dad took my other hand, and we walked in the door together. Dad squeezed my hand as we entered the darkened room. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Dad called, making me laugh.

We waited for something to happen, but the room seemed like a tomb.

"Dad, there's no one here," I said.

"Of course there is, baby," Dad said. "It's just Larry being silly with me. He's like that."

"Who's Larry?"

"My friend, the one who owns this place, hon, remember?"

"I thought it was someone called Joey."

Dad laughed. "No! No, no, no! This place is _old_, Shaylee, older than _me_. It was owned by someone called Joey _years ago_. He's _dead now_."

At that moment, a sudden light flicked on and we heard footsteps approaching, coming down some stairs at the far end of the room, behind the old deserted bar. A man who looked about dad's age came slowly down the stairs.

"Is that Jack Napier I can hear?" he called.

"Certainly is, man!" Dad replied.

He enthusiastically came down the stairs and towards us. He had a leather jacket on and had short blonde hair. His face was spotty and covered in marks and scratches. I smiled at him, although I felt a little nervous. As I've said, I was conscious of new people, but only if they seemed like they could hurt me, if they looked harmless, then nervousness would be the last thing I would feel. This guy looked like a serious criminal, looking even more intimidating than dad did.

"Hey, man!" the man greeted, as him and dad did a little handshake and manly hug. My smile disappeared because dad had let go of my hand.

"Hey, Larry," Dad said. "How's things? Haven't seen you in…how long _has _it been?"

"A while, dude," Larry replied. "At least two months. How's the gang? You know Rob, Ken, Harleen and that?"

Wait, how did he know Harleen? I'd only known the woman's existence for a day and yet she was suddenly being brought up all the time. It was very odd.

"Ahh, not good, man, not good," Dad said, shaking his head.

Larry then finally looked down at me interestedly, I was determined to maintain that friendly smile. I didn't dare act cowardly in front of dad. Larry exchanged his eyes from me to dad numerous times, before looking at dad, chuckling slightly.

"And who's this, then, Jack?" he asked. "Haven't seen this little mite before."

Dad then winked at me and took my hand again, reassuring me everything was okay.

"This is Shaylee," he said, sounding proud. "She's my partner in crime."

I stared at dad. I wasn't sure how to react to that comment, especially when dad and Larry started laughing.

"Oh, really?" Larry said, still sniggering. "Bit young to be in _your_ gang, isn't she, pal?"

"Ha! She's not in _any _kind of gang, at least I hope she isn't. Nah, this is my little girl. Come on, man, I've told you about her before, haven't I?"

"Ah, yes, you and Diana's kid." There was a moment of silence as Larry looked at us both, awkwardly. Talking about mom made us both feel pain. We don't like feeling emotional pain. Not one bit. "So, what brings you here, Jack?" Larry broke the silence. "Not like you to come here during this time of the day. And with your kid, as well…" He paused as he looked at me with a worried face. "What's happened?"

"Didn't you see the news this morning?" Dad asked.

"Ah, man, I wasn't up in time. Why what's happened?"

"Harleen. That's what happened."

"Oh God. What's that bitch done now?" Larry gasped and covered his mouth, making me giggle. "Oops, sorry, ignore my language, Shaylee."

"It's okay," I said. "I hear it all the time."

Larry smiled at me before dad continued.

"She's been arrested. Ken and Rob have been, too. Last night, it...it went off a bit _crazy_. Things didn't go the way we wanted, you see. Harleen was out of her mind. Diana, she – she came to find me, and she and Shaylee found us robbing the jewellery store."

"Stealing again, Jack?"

"Yeah, well, you know, we were bored...Anyway, I…I, we…" Dad's voice lingered away as he put his hands over his face.

"Jack?" Larry said, putting his hands on dad's shoulders.

"Don't touch him," I snapped at him. "It won't help." Larry backed away slowly. "Dad, it's okay," I said, gently. "Do you want me to tell him what happened?"

Dad removed his hands and kneeled down to my level.

"Would you?" he asked.

"Yes, dad, you said I shouldn't be scared, so I'm going to be brave and tell him why we're here. It's what's best for me."

I felt a surge of pride as dad smiled broadly at me. "Okay then, darlin', I…I'm going out for, uh…"

"Cigarette?" I finished.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Dad rested his head on mine, affectionately, before heading out the door with his bag over his shoulder. He sighed and ruffled his hair, as he exited. I looked back at Larry, who was completely gobsmacked. "He's…he's not himself today," I explained.

"Clearly not," Larry replied. "He's not usually like this, you know, looking all worried. I've _never _seen him be affectionate. Well, I've never met Diana, so…"

"He was never affectionate with her, either," I cut in. "He never will be."

Larry kneeled down to face me. "So what's wrong with him, sweetheart? What's going on?"

I glared at him, I hated it when someone else called me things like 'sweetheart'. I took a deep breath.

"Well, Diana, my mom…you know?" I began. Larry nodded. "Well, last night, she was…she was shot." His mouth dropped open, he stuttered but remained silent. "My…my dad's scared the police are going to take me away because they're looking for him because last night they arrested these men and this Harleen woman, and it said on the news that she shot my mom last night after we went to find dad and we found him robbing this store…"

"Wait, slow down. So are you saying that Harleen shot your _mom_ last night?"

"Yes, when we found dad and her robbing this store."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes and because my dad was involved and he got away with me because they were knocked out, they're now looking for him and if they find him dad said they'll take me away from him and we don't want that…"

"Oh my goodness…"

"I'm not sure what's going to happen to dad. Before we came here he seemed to be fine but now he's just sad and…it's _horrible_."

"I'm sure it is. I've known your dad a long time…it's not a pretty sight when he's angry."

"He was angry at my mom constantly, they always argued."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I got used to it. Even I started arguing with her. I still argue with her now and she's dead."

Larry then stared at me weirdly. I looked right into the pupils of his eyes. When I was telling someone how I felt, I always tended to stare at them right in the face, just like dad did.

"So that's why you're here?" he asked. "Because he wants you to be safe?"

"Yes. Just for a bit, until the cops give up and then he said we can go back to the town when it's safe. He said this was a good place because you're his friend and would look after us for a while."

He sighed. "Well…"

"Would no one ever find us here?"

"If you stay hidden I'm sure you'll both be safe. You must understand though, your dad can't be going out all the time and…doing things because he will get caught. He knows that, right?"

"Probably. He's not stupid."

Larry smiled at me, admiringly. "You're a very brave girl, Shaylee."

"Thank you, I like to think so."

"How old are you?"

"Ten."

"Wow, you seem much older."

"I wish I was, maybe then I could help dad more with things. Mom said he's ill, but he's not." I purposely lied to him so he wouldn't ask dad about his illness or bother him with it.

"I'm sorry about your mom."

"Don't be, I'll get over it."

"How's your dad feeling about it?"

I paused, as I pushed my hair behind my ear. "I don't know," I said. "He hasn't told me. But I _know _he's sad, but I don't want to ask him. He may get angry about it. Everything about my mom makes him angry."

Larry looked above my head and I heard footsteps approaching. Dad came back in, looking a bit calmer now. Larry stood up and dad took my hand again, squeezing it slightly.

"So has she told you everything?" he asked Larry.

"Every detail," Larry replied, a little sadly. "I'm sorry about Diana, pal."

"Don't be sorry, I'm more concerned about this little one here. So, where are we going to stay?"

"Uhhh…."

"You _are _letting us stay, aren't you?" Dad said, sharply.

"Of course man, of course, but…you can't go out unless it's an emergency. I mean, I can't let them catch you, because, you know…"

"I know, I know, I get it," Dad replied, impatiently. "Now where are we staying?"

"I have a spare room upstairs, you'll have to share a bed I'm afraid."

"That's okay," I grinned.

"Okay, well, follow me," Larry said. We followed him up the stairs, with Larry carrying my suitcase for me. We entered a very narrow hallway, where Larry showed us right to the end, and opened the door to reveal a cramped little bedroom, with a large double bed in middle. It had a little desk and a lampshade, which pleased me because I could do my drawings. There was a neat little chest of drawers, a small mirror and a tiny window with horrid curtains that revealed the street down below and also viewed the city beyond the metal fence. I couldn't wait to gaze out of it at night time. "This is it," Larry said, showing us in and putting my suitcase neatly underneath the bed. "Feel free to pack everything."

"Thanks, man," Dad said, smiling. "We…_appreciate _it, don't we, honey?"

I nodded as I collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, not far above my head.

"So how long do you think you'll be staying for?" Larry asked.

"As long as we need to, if _that's _okay," Dad replied.

"Of course, but you have to _promise _me you won't get caught, _I'll _get into trouble too, you know."

"Lighten up, Larry!" I cried, swinging my legs in the air.

Dad burst into laughter, and he tickled my stomach, making me squeal and giggle uncontrollably.

"Well said, little one!" Dad laughed.

As we calmed down, Larry started to stutter. I began to feel he was getting nervous. Weird, I thought he was dad's friend, he shouldn't be nervous of him, should he? Especially if he knows about his crimes _and _his criminal friends.

"Erm…uh…Jack?" he stammered. Dad darted his eyes towards him as I continued laughing. "Are you hungry? Can I get you something?"

"What's the time?" Dad asked.

Larry looked at his watch. "It's half past two."

"Is it really?" Dad sounded surprised. "Later than I thought. _Okay_…well, yeah, get us something then, that'd be _marvellous_."

Larry then smiled nervously before strolling off.

"Don't make anything green!" I called after him as he went down the stairs. Dad and I then just filled up our new bedroom with hysterical laughter. It was an amazing rush of happiness through me, even if dad's laughter was turning more insane all the time. After a while, dad then began to take off his jacket, placing his gun and everything else on the side. Then he took off his tie, then his _shirt_. "Dad!" I cried when I saw him topless.

"What? What's the problem, eh?"

"Why do you have no _top on_?"

"I'm putting my pyjamas on, relax."

"What now?"

"Yeah, I'm tired." I spluttered into silly giggles again. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes fiercely, and as dad rummaged through his little bag to get his pyjamas, I noticed something on his back. I leaned in closer until I was practically touching it. On his back there was a huge, ugly scar tracing down his spine. It looked horrifying, it made me shiver slightly. I then noticed there were many more marks and bruises dotted all over his back, making me gasp quietly. "What's the matter?" Dad asked, whirling around to face me.

"Nothing, nothing…just…what's all those marks on your back, dad?"

"What, these scars and stuff like that?" Dad sighed, as he pulled out his pyjama top and put it on. "You get them a lot when you do the things I do, baby."

"But don't they hurt you?"

"Not really, no. Of course they hurt at first, but I've got used to it by now. I barely feel a thing. If I'm ever injured or something, I tend to shake it off quickly. I, uh…_laugh _it off more now. You don't find me coming home and complaining about them, do you?" I didn't answer, but I just nodded, understanding. As dad finished getting dressed, I lay down on the surprisingly comfortable bed. Dad joined me when he was finished, putting his arm around me. I nestled up to him, allowing this amazing moment to sink in. "Oh, what a _day_, huh, Shaylee?" Dad sighed.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Tell you what, I've experienced a lot of crazy things, but last night and today have been the _craziest _so far."

Then there was a long silence. I heard cluttering downstairs, presuming that Larry was making us something. I glanced up at dad, who was staring ahead, with a blank expression.

"Dad?" I said.

"Hmm?" He didn't look at me.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

I paused as I took a deep breath. "Do you miss mom?"

He then slowly turned his head to look at me, still having that blank expression. I felt my heart starting to beat faster.

"Of course I do," he said.

I couldn't believe it. "Really?"

"I'll miss your mom forever."

"But you hated her."

Dad then waited as he giggled quietly and lifted my chin up.

"Listen to me," he said, "I _never_ hated your mom. I could _never_ hate her. I loved your mom with all my heart. Over the years…I started to not _care _about her, but I never _hated _her. Why would I ask her to marry me? Hmm? I only ever shouted at her because she treated you like shit and that was all the time. Yeah…your mom…she was fun at first. You know, honey, the very last thing I heard her say was _'You're crazy'_…how sad is that? _That_…that will be in my mind forever, because…my mind…it _likes _reminding me of stuff, don't it? Same with you, yeah? Of course, she was saying that to _Harleen_, but…"

"Larry said he knew Harleen," I interrupted.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, yeah he does."

"How?"

"Well…me, Larry and Harleen…we all went to school together…"

"You said you didn't do school."

"I didn't, but I never said I didn't _go_…I just said I didn't do it. My attendance was _appalling_." Dad laughed softly. "I couldn't be doing with it, not with all the bullies and crappy teachers. But anyway…we went to school together, that's how he knows her. Harleen, she was Miss Clever Clogs, the teacher's favourite, all that crap…"

"_Really_?"

"Oh, yeah. She wanted to study psychology. One day she came to me, with a book _all _about it, shoved it in my face, and she tells me, '_Look, Jack, one day I'll be doing all of this!_'" His Harleen impression made me giggle, but dad put his finger on my mouth. "Shhh, let me finish," he whispered. I stayed quiet. "I wasn't interested, and pushed it back into her face. She told me I worry too much, and that I need to lighten up. Huh, but anyway, she went on to study the goddamn thing, which how she met your mom, yeah? Remember me telling you about how mom nearly got a really good job as a psychologist but she gave it up? Yeah? Well, your mom and Harleen went to the same place to study it."

"Well, they didn't do very well, did they?" I laughed.

"Not particularly," Dad laughed with me. "I mean, your mom just _quit_, you know, when we moved in together, and Harleen, well…that's another story. But yeah, we've stayed good friends ever since. Me, Harleen, Larry…I wasn't into jobs much myself. Larry and his ex-wife managed to own this place but now it's shut down as a bar and now he just lives here _all on his own_. Me? Well, you _know _I can't work. My head mentally can't take it."

"So is that how you met mom? Through Harleen? You said you met her when you were a teenager."

"I did, yeah...They started studying it when they were about nineteen and they were friends at first and that's why we all started hanging out, right? Your mom…she _sparkled _with everything I wanted in a woman. Well, she did _then_…I'm not sure she'd be my type now. That's why I went off her a bit. I'll admit it, I had a little crush on Harleen years ago but…I never loved her. I still don't love her. I don't know if I even _like _her _now_…"

"She killed mom."

I felt my voice shaking, so I hid myself in dad's chest. Thank goodness he remained calm, starting to stroke my head.

"Shhh, it's fine, Shaylee," he whispered. "You said you wanted to know about her didn't you? Well now you know."

I sniffed. "But…but _why _did she shoot mom? Why, dad?"

He sighed. "I don't know, baby, I just don't know. She's…she's complicated. She's always come back to me when I need her…lately she's going a bit…_over the top_."

There were a few moments of silence as dad forced my head up to look at him. He looked at me, proudly, folding my hair back over my ears.

"You know what the best thing your mother ever did for me was?" he asked, smiling.

"What?" I asked, curiously.

"She gave me a little girl who is so clever, and brave, and beautiful and…the spitting image of her."

"I'm not the spitting image of her."

"You _are_, Shaylee. You have her face. But…my eyes."

"I don't want to be like her."

"Not like how she was when she started drinking, of course you don't." Dad smirked at me. "Yeah, I knew from day one you'd be a daddy's girl. _All the way_. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you've always been like me, not counting all the crappy things in my mind I gave to you…but I mean, you're smart, funny, you take no shit, you're…you're certainly _my _daughter, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't want to be anyone else's."

"You're _too _kind. You know, Shaylee, you remind me of my mother." He smiled, showing his tongue in between his teeth. "Come 'ere…" I beamed at him and tightly hugged him around the neck. "Shaylee?" he said, after a few minutes.

"Yes, dad?"

"May I ask you to do something for me?"

"What?"

"You like drawing, don't you?" I nodded vigorously. "Well…I need some help. You know how I told you a few years ago about…_disguises_?"

I grinned at dad because I knew there was something exciting coming up. "Yes, I remember," I replied, nodding.

Dad sniggered. "Well…I'm having trouble. I'm _no good_ at drawing…so, I thought maybe you could design something for me?"

I squealed in excitement as dad laughed at me jumping up and down on the bed. "What, what, what?" I asked, eagerly.

"Playing cards…you know them, right?"

"Yes, I used to play with them with Chase at lunchtimes."

"Well…you know how there's cards like the King, Queen, Jack and so forth? People use them all the time. Do people ever use Joker cards?"

"We never used _them_."

"Exactly! So…" Dad held my chin as his smirk became wider, "I want you to design a cool one of those for me. One that looks so cool people would actually use them."

I gasped in delight. "Wow, cool! Okay, dad! I'm sure I'll come up with something."

"_Good girl_!" Dad said, winking at me. "Might as well get started. Nothing _better _to do, is there?"

I leaped off the bed and in two seconds flat got out my drawing things from my case. I sat myself down at the little desk at the side, where dad's gun was still lying.

As I began to draw, I said to dad, "What is for, dad, anyway?"

"It's for, uh…_future reference_."

I jumped a mile as dad burst into maniacal laughter.


	8. Playing Cards And Hair Dye

_**Probably the only chapter with not much mature content, but you can't always be gory ;) Review!**_

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**Chapter 7 - Playing Cards &amp; Hair Dye**

I'll never forget those next few days we spent in Joey's Tavern.

I won't lie to you, it was nice being away from our confined flat for a while, but this wasn't much different. Dad and I struggled for space in that little spare bedroom, which is why dad spent most of his time in the den area, Larry's equivalent to a living room.

You could tell this tavern was really old: the walls were rusty at every corner, you could easily pick off the plaster and make it magically disappear in your fingers by simply rubbing it away. If you took a picture of the bar area, it would make a beautiful historical portrait. Larry allowed me to go in the bar area, but was strict on the fact I couldn't touch the alcohol. I don't know why. I was a _kid_, was he really concerned I was going to sneakily try and taste some of the liquor?

I wouldn't dare touch it. Not after what it did to mom.

Like I said, I'm _not _stupid.

Dad would be up at around 9 o'clock every morning, simply to go and watch the news in the other room. He would leave me peacefully sleeping, but I knew he had awoken every morning because I heard him noisily getting changed before leaving the room and blasting the television in the den area. I soon nestled straight back to sleep though.

The first night we stayed there, I awakened very late the next morning, as I'd been up late drawing those designs for dad. I fluttered my eyes open to be slightly blinded by the sun that was gaping through the flowery-patterned curtains from the miniature window above the bed. Like a zombie rising from the grave, I sat up and ruffled my greasy hair. The first thing I saw when I sat up was the clock above the door in front of me, which read 11:15am. At first I panicked, but then I realised: we weren't at home. It was also summer vacation, so it was okay to sleep right through the morning hours.

With a loud thud, I slumped onto my back again and roughly pulled the covers over me. I turned on my side to see my drawing pad and pens were still in their places on the desk, but dad's gun had vanished. I listened out for him, but all I could hear was the TV softly humming from down the corridor. Occasionally I heard cluttering down the stairs, but apart from that, nothing. Just quietness.

It was very strange. I wasn't used to waking up and my mornings be so noiseless. I always expected to wake up to our TV booming and mom yelling about something or other and dad's friendly awakening call.

I thought about mom. I thought back to when I was a little girl and how much fun we had before she became an alcoholic. Before she became a neglecting monster. I remembered the few things she did right, like getting dad to quit smoking heavily and then and again asking if I was okay when I was upset. I tried desperately to think of her laugh (which was extremely difficult because mom rarely laughed). I was reminded of a sweet and high-pitched giggle, and how she often burst into her laughter, just like I did. I recalled dad saying how much I look like her. Thinking about it now, yeah, I do look like her a lot. We have the same pale skin complexion and natural hair colour and the facial features like the nose and our eyebrows. I much preferred what I had off dad though: the eyes and the thickness of my hair and our identical smiles.

Then I saw a striking image: mom lifting a three year old child of her feet and spinning her around in circles, laughing at her little daughter giggling and squealing at the top her lungs.

Then it flashed back to a few days ago: when mom came into my room, banging on my door and shouting at me.

I felt an agonising pain in my heart.

That's when I started to cry.

_Oh, Shaylee, for goodness sake, why are you crying recalling what your mother was like? She was a drunk who neglected you and cared more about your dad even though he beat her. You saw him beat her, grab her by the throat, you even saw him threatening her, spitting her in face._

"He was doing it for _me_," I replied, furiously to the voice in my head, gritting my teeth.

_You even said how much she deserved it. She was nothing more than a terrible mother._

"No…" I whispered to the voice in my head, grasping onto the bed sheets in frustration. "No…stop it."

_She was meant to be your mother, and all she did was yell. You even said so yourself how much of a monster she was._

"She still cared."

_She never cared about you._

"Yes she did, she cared…she just…didn't know how to show it. Now shut up."

All of a sudden, I hid myself under the covers and buried my head in the pillow, smelling dad's body odour on the sheets. I felt a tear rolling.

"Go away, go away, _go away_," I whispered, harshly, to no one in particular.

I had to compose myself by squeezing my eyes shut and taking deep breaths, almost like I was meditating. I felt so silly and embarrassed, but, I couldn't stand hearing voices. Especially hearing ones that had no clue about what I was going through.

"They're _not _real, they're _not_ real," I told myself, as I continued to sigh heavily. I frantically thought about what dad had said to me, just the morning before. "They're there to make your life a _misery_, Shaylee, don't _listen_. Don't listen, don't listen, don't _listen_…"

The voice weakened the more I ignored it and banged my head against the pillow. It sounded like it was losing signal on a radio, until it eventually drained out of my brain completely. I took several deep breaths before I removed myself from under the sheets, my hair sticking up crazily. I angrily wiped my tears from my face and sat crossed legged on top of the bed, starting to fidget with my hands. I was still panting hard, determined to keep the anger inside. I unusually didn't see red this time, probably because there was no deafening noises arguing this time, it was just the one.

By the time I had more or less calmed myself, the clock read 12pm. I could still feel a tint of frustration inside of me, my head still very quietly humming.

I thought of the best solution to cheer my mood: Dad.

I carefully started walking out of the small room, slowly creaking the door open to reveal the corridor in Larry's tavern. I tiptoed through the soft carpet, following the noise of the television, which I knew would lead to dad. I was so relieved Larry wasn't around, I would hate it if he saw me with my red eyes and looking such a mess with my untidy hair.

I nervously opened the door to the den area, where dad was buried in a giant beanbag, his eyes fixated on what appeared to be a thrilling action movie on the screen. He looked so peaceful and calm I didn't want to disturb him, but I had no choice when I closed the door and he darted his head towards me, who stood stiff against the door.

"Ahh, _morning_, sunshine!" he exclaimed, sitting up. "Or should I say, _afternoon_?" My mind suddenly couldn't connect with my mouth and I was unable to mutter any words. It was like a flash back to two years ago, that rainy day in February where I used a gun for the first time and I struggled to talk to dad about it. Dad perked his head up when he saw me staring down at my fumbling hands. "Hmm, Shaylee, do I sense…_unhappiness_?" he asked. I managed to nod, slowly, but I kept my head to the floor. "What's the matter, beautiful, huh?"

I looked back up at dad, who had now stood up and had started walking towards me, until he was towering above me like a Gotham skyscraper.

"Uhh…" I mumbled.

Dad kneeled down to my level. "What's this?" he asked, softly, touching underneath my eyes. I wanted to scream when he flicked a small tear off my face. "Have you been crying?"

"No." I tried to sound convincing, but I failed miserably.

Dad raised his eyebrows at me with disbelief. "What have I told you, baby?" he said. My heart skipped a beat when he said that, as I thought he was going to be angry at me for lying.

"Uhh…I…" I stammered.

"I've told you before. It's okay to be scared and _to cry _sometimes, isn't it?" I breathed a sigh of relief. I nodded back at him, staring at my fingers that were twiddling around with each other. "Shaylee, look at me," Dad said, sharply. I immediately did as I was told. "Now, tell daddy what's wrong, hmm?"

Luckily, a kind smile appeared on his lips. Even though he practically had me up against the door, he didn't frighten me.

He was my father, he would _never _hurt me.

"It was…" I whispered. "I heard…I heard voices."

Dad's smile faded instantly as his forehead creased with worry. "What?"

"Yeah…yeah…but it's okay…it wasn't _as bad_ this time, it was only one…and it was quiet…I soon got rid of it."

I smiled at him but his mood wasn't lightened. "Oh my God…" he whispered.

"Dad, I'm fine…"

"No, honey, no…this…this isn't good."

"It was worse yesterday. It was louder."

"Maybe so, but…oh my _god_…you're a _child_. You shouldn't be hearing _anything_. Even _I _didn't when I was your age."

"Really?"

"Yes, mine started when I was…ah, I was about fifteen, sixteen…and _that's _bad. Shaylee, you're _ten_…"

"But I'm okay."

Dad sighed as he stood up again. He paced slowly around the room, angrily switching the TV off, before lunging back onto the beanbag and putting his hands over his face.

I felt so much pain seeing him like that, especially because I thought I was to blame. Once again, dad's mood changed so rapidly, making me conscious of him. I walked over and when I reached him, I delicately placed my shaking hand on his arm, making him sigh.

"Dad, please don't be angry…" I sounded so pathetic, but I meant it.

"I'm not angry," he answered, into his hands.

I removed my hand and kneeled down next to the beanbag, looking down at my lap.

"Dad, we're…we're not at home. You can't act like this when we're in someone else's home."

"I know, I know…you're right…"

"Is it going to get worse?" I asked him.

Dad sighed again before finally removing his hands from his face. "I…I don't know, darlin', I really don't know. God, I feel like this is _my _fault…"

I gasped in horror. "It's not your fault, dad!"

"I gave you it, and I…_hate _myself for it." Dad's voice grew more and more deep and dangerous as he continued. "You don't…deserve it. I mean, the first time_ I _heard voices, I was a teenager, it was just after…" He paused as his voice trailed off into sadness. That's when he finally looked at me in the eyes. "…just after my mom died. I wanted to rot away in a _black hole_, and they were telling me to do it…but I didn't. My father was _such _a heartless bastard…telling me to get over it…to grow up and be a man. That's when it happened. The night after my mom died, he approached me…_laughing_…and took off his belt, and beat me until the sun came up. He tells me it's my fault. He tells me I caused too much stress for my mother." Dad shook his head in disgust. "That beating was what triggered it. I mean, I'd heard _a little bit _before, but…_fuck_, I still hear him today. But that's not the point, my darling, the point _is_…this is happening to you _too quickly_…"

"Maybe I should stop thinking so much then, dad."

He paused, and then started patting his lap. "Come on, come sit with your old man."

I leaped up and excitedly place myself on his lap. I beamed at him, and dad managed to form a small little grin.

"I'll be okay," I said, nodding my head. I tried to quickly get off the subject as I despised to see dad so stressed.

Dad stroked my cheek, smiling. "Just promise me, whenever you hear something, don't listen to it…"

"Never," I said. "I didn't listen to this one. It spoke a lot of nonsense anyway."

"Well done, sweetheart. But if this is still happening, and it gets worse, don't ignore it. Tell me. Okay? I don't want this happening to you _all the time_. Gotta make sure my Shaylee is okay, haven't I?"

I grinned happily at him and without thinking, I launched myself around his neck, making him groan and splutter into giggles.

"Hey, hey, watch it…" he said, nudging me off him.

"Sorry."

"Nah, I'm _okay_. Looks like you're gonna have a little fight in you when you're older. I like that."

Dad winked at me before we both started laughing again. I felt so relieved to hear him laughing again, it was like magical music in my ears.

I sighed to calm myself down, as dad did the same.

"Daddy?" I squeaked.

"Yes, princess?"

"You still won't send me to a doctor, right? Because I don't want to."

"Of course I won't," Dad laughed. "My mother took me one time when I was a young lad…because I _was _young _once_, Shaylee…and that's when they found that crappy schizophrenia…"

"What _is _that, anyway?"

"All in good time," Dad said, smiling. "You'll know _all in good time_. They said not to worry because it would start developing more when I grew older, and by that I mean, _much_ older, _but_, it happened when I was a teenager and they got it _wrong_. They were wrong about my ADHD too, saying it wasn't _serious_, but it clearly was, wasn't it?"

I nodded my head, though I didn't fully understand. "So…it's only special people like us who hear voices, then, dad?"

"Exactly right, honey."

Right at that moment, we both jumped upon hearing a loud crash coming from down the stairs. It sounded like glass shattering. I backed off instantly when I realised I had been clinging onto dad in shock. Dad looked at me and burst out laughing.

"What the _hell _is he doing down there?" he exclaimed, referring to Larry.

"What _has _he been doing, dad?" I asked.

"Oh, just…cleaning and dusting and all sorts of boring things like that," Dad said, looking slightly disappointed. "We sat and had breakfast together, and he showed me around while you were still fast asleep, and he said I could watch any of his movies if I wanted, so…I _did_. He went back to clean downstairs."

"But…no one uses that bit anymore."

"Exactly! Funny guy, that Larry." Dad started laughing again as he stood up so quickly he nearly fell over his own feet, making him laugh even harder.

"Careful, dad!" I laughed, as I ran to him, trying to catch him.

"Look at me, falling over, huh?" Dad snickered. "Such a _clown_, aren't I? Come on, let's see what he's up to. Maybe we can get you some food."

"Aw, yes, I'm _starving_!" I beamed.

Dad then imitated the shattering glass we heard, wiggling his hands about and making loud swishing noises, making me laugh like an idiot. We both headed out of the room, and dad did a hilarious dance as he tiptoed down the stairs. I had to be careful not to tumble down, as I was laughing so much at dad, clutching my stomach and leaning over as I was walking down. Dad burst into his hysterical laughter again as we made our way down to the bottom.

"Feel better now, little one?" he asked, with a stupid grin on his face as we reached the bottom.

"Much better, thank you," I answered, still giggling.

Dad was like a magician, he could make my feelings just change in an instant. I suddenly really felt relaxed and happy, my mind deleting the fact I'd had a little breakdown and had been crying just a few minutes before.

That's one of the biggest reasons I loved my father so much. He knew exactly how I was feeling the minute I stepped through the door. He could take one look at me and know exactly what to say and do. In that intelligent mind of his, he could come up with a solution to make me smile, even if the situation was so horrible. It's nice having someone who knows you better than yourself. I could say the same thing about me too, I _always _knew what was on his mind. Like I explained before, I usually knew if he was planning something, if he had a crafty trick up his sleeve, but usually I knew when he was stressed or angry, and I loathed it so much when he was. It was the father I didn't like to see. The father I loved to see was that carefree, crafty man who always made me smile and feel safe, even if the situation was the most dangerous you could get.

We entered the downstairs bar area to find Larry on his hands and knees, carefully dusting up some glass into a dustpan and brush. A mop was leaning on the bar, along with a bucket, almost overflowing with bubbly water. He looked up at us, as he was busy slaving away. Dad carelessly splashed through the spilled alcohol on the floor, but I didn't dare step in it with my bare feet.

"Oh, hi, Jack…Shaylee," he groaned, sweeping some more.

"What's happened here, man?" Dad laughed.

"Ah, I just…I just dropped a bottle of vodka."

"Ha, not much different from being at home after all, is it, Shay?" Dad said to me, by his side. We both giggled at the joke, but Larry wasn't as amused.

"Gonna take me ages to mop up all of this," he complained. "Here, Jack, will you help?"

Dad scoffed. "Me, _mopping_? Come on, man, you know me. I _can't _do it."

"Very funny, Jack. All you have to do is mop up the liquor on the floor while I deal with this shit."

Dad rolled his eyes and looked at me, who was struggling to keep a straight face.

"I'll do it," I said, although I didn't intend to be helpful.

"Oh, Shaylee, that would be brilliant," Larry said, as he cautiously stood up, balancing the glass-infested dustpan and brush in his hand. He very gingerly walked over to the bin on the far end of the room, as I grabbed the mop that was leaning on the bar and slammed the end down on the floor.

"Are you actually going to do that?" Dad sounded totally gobsmacked.

I grinned up at him. "Uh, I _could_…" I said.

Dad grinned just like me. "I sense lies in you, little one…" he laughed.

Larry returned, dusting his hands off. He was taken aback when he saw me smirking at him and gripping the mop.

"Well, uh, Shaylee…" he said, "do you want to…?"

"Not really," I replied, making dad burst into harsh giggles. "I've forgotten how."

I was purposely being funny with him, just because I felt like it. Dad had gotten me into such a mischievous mood, my mind sparkled with ideas to be awkward.

Larry started laughing too, put his hands on his hips. "You know, you could have just said that you didn't want to, you know," he said, trying to sound as kind as possible.

"I know," I smiled pleasantly at Larry. I casually handed him the mop, before nuzzling up on dad's arm. Still cackling, he placed his arm around my shoulder, making me cuddle closer and we laughed harmoniously. It sounded so beautiful even Larry started to join in.

"Pair of nutters, you two," he laughed, as he began to dip the mop in the bucket and clean up the spilled alcohol, covering the floor.

"I'm not mad, am I, dad?" I asked, beaming up at him.

"_No_…not really, Shaylee," Dad replied, winking at me. "But _everyone's _a bit crazy sometimes, aren't they?"

"Anyway, you had a long sleep, didn't ya, Shaylee?" Larry said, as he continued to wipe the floor. "Was that bed comfy enough for you?"

"Oh yes, it was great, thank you," I said.

"Oh good, oh good."

"Anyway, Larry," Dad addressed him, removing his arm from around my shoulders. "Could we get Shaylee some food maybe? Starving, aren't ya, honey?"

I nodded. Larry put the mop to one side as he looked our way.

"I don't see why not," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You ready to eat lunch yet, Jack?"

"Uhh…yeah, go on then. Be a…_great _opportunity to tell you what I found out this morning."

I widened my eyes at dad, whose grin remained wide on his lips.

"Go get dressed then, lazy bones," he said to me, ruffling my hair.

"Yeah, I'll call you when it's ready, guys," Larry said.

"Okay, well _I_…I'll just…go for a cigarette," Dad sighed as he nudged me to run along.

I ran upstairs like lightning and burst into our spare bedroom, instantly throwing my clothes off and dressing myself in my usual skull-decorated black and purple joggers.

Once I was dressed and made my hair look fairly decent, I explored the upstairs area, looking out for anything interesting. In the den area, the room with a large television, comfy beanbags and a shelf-full of DVDs, I discovered a range of old photos neatly lined on top of a table. I examined them closer, the first one was very old, showing a picture of what seemed like a young Larry standing outside the tavern, which looked much grander than the one I was in at the moment, shaking another man's hand and grinning widely at the camera. Next to that was an even older photo that was so blurry it took me a while to figure it out. I realised it was Larry again, but this time he looked even younger, maybe around fourteen years old. He had his arm around another boy, while a blonde-haired girl with large blue eyes leaned on this other boy, smiling brightly at the camera. I was so intrigued, like any ten year old would be, that I picked up the photo in its frame, sat slowly on the carpet and observed the photo for a while.

That other boy looked an awful lot like dad.

It didn't take long for dad to enter the room. I perked my head up at him, as he was putting away his lighter in his pocket. I felt a little disappointed he wasn't wearing one of those super cool purple coats with millions of different pockets inside and out. He just looked completely normal that day, with his hair just as scruffy as his jeans and his overly-creased t-shirt that was way too small for him.

"What's that, Shay?" he asked, when he came in.

"Some photo Larry keeps in here," I replied. I displayed it to him, pointing at the picture. "Dad, is that _you_?"

Dad looked interested and fixed his eyes on the picture as he walked over and took it off me. He stared at it for a while, before he let out a little laugh.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that's me."

He sat next to me, giving me it back. I once again studied it closely.

"And that's Larry?" I asked, pointing.

"Yeah," Dad laughed.

"Who's the girl?" I looked at dad curiously, who sighed.

"That's…that's Harleen," he said, quietly.

"_Is it_?" I asked, shocked.

"Yeah, this…this was a _long time _ago, though, Shaylee," Dad explained, taking it off me again. "Can't believe he still has this picture. This was in ninth grade and we had to take a picture for a project. Yeah, I remember. We never finished that silly assignment." We both giggled. "But yeah, back in those days…"

"You don't look very happy dad," I laughed.

"Hey, when do I _ever _look happy on a picture? You know I _hate _photos. _They_ look happy, though, don't they?"

"I can't believe that's Harleen," I said, shaking my head.

"Me neither," Dad said, a little sadly. I fixed my eyes on his awkward expression. "She was so different then. Now she's…"

"Crazy?"

"More than that."

There was a short silence before dad suddenly clapped his hands, enthusiastically.

"Right," he said, standing up, "I'm uh, going to watch a movie for a bit, honey. You wanna watch?"

I stood up and put the photo down where I found it, as I thought. "Uhh.." I then had a light-bulb moment. "No, dad, actually…I'd rather…I want to carry on with those designs."

Dad grinned widely at me. "Okay then, you do that," he said, pinching my cheek, affectionately. "I'll call when ya food's ready."

The night before I had already designed one card and was halfway through another one. Both were very different, but they were still very similar. I decided to use black, purple and red only, not just because they were my favourite colours, but, it would make the cards seem more traditional as well as make them all look like they were part of the same family.

The one I had sketched the night before was all-black, which I sketched and coloured with my best thick-ink pen. To design a traditional jester in the middle of the card would have been so boring, so I decided to spice it up a bit. I thought about dad and his personality, and I thought, he's a little bit of a joker himself, which gave me a brilliant idea.

I had outlined a devil-kind of creature that was clutching onto his stomach and laughing with pure delight. His legs were shaped like he was sitting on an invisible chair and on his back I sketched a long, pointy tail that looked a devil's. Chase had shown me how to draw that, as one time we had to draw the comparison of Heaven and Hell, and during the lunch break, Chase had shown me how to draw an awesome devil's tail. Miss Woodville was so impressed, for once. On top of the joyous creature, I placed a comical jester's hat on his head, so it did look like a bit of a joker, and then I tried my best to detail his face, making him look above to the heavens and thank God life was such a joke, and I made his face look middle-aged, while also giving it a tint of evilness. Finally, in large capital letters, I wrote 'Joker' down both sides of the paper, like traditional playing cards have. This was a creature you didn't want to curse you. I was so pleased when I finished it, that immediately I began the next one, but as I've said, I did half, as dad nagged me to go to bed, as "a little girl needs her beauty sleep."

So for an hour, as dad tried to entertain himself with a movie, and Larry was making me some food, I finished off my other design, which I decided, I was going to scrap the rule about using only the three colours, because I remembered Chase told me that if you're drawing something traditional, it's always 'nostalgic' to use familiar colours. I didn't much of that, but I decided to give it a shot.

When I drew my imagination onto a page, this was when my life and my mind were the calmest it ever was. I suppose it was because I was concentrating and taken to my own far away world, a world that wasn't as crazy as the real one I lived in. The world I was taken to while I was drawing was somewhere where I could just be a normal kid, a normal little girl who had no troubles, who had no stupid things racking inside her head, who had a mother who could be a best friend and who had more than one friend she could share her creativity with. It wasn't just when I was drawing, it was most nights, where I lied down in bed and thought about what it would be like if I didn't have all the crazy things I had in my life. Even now as a young adult, I _still _like to imagine this different world.

One things for sure, though, no matter what world I flew to in my mind, my father would remain the same.

I was just finishing off my second design, when dad snuck into the room, and waited, peeping through the marginally-opened door. I was so captivated I didn't notice him until he coughed to get my attention.

"Oh, hi, daddy," I greeted, smiling at him.

"How's Da Vinci doin', then?" he chuckled.

I laughed. "Great, thank you."

"I _hate _to interrupt an artist at work, but your lunch is ready, darlin'."

I beamed excitedly and flew from my chair. I almost knocked dad over as I dashed past him, through the corridor and down the stairs. I stopped in my tracks when I saw Larry laying out plates of prepared meals one of the tables in the bar area. Dad joined me, and placed his hand on my shoulder as I continued to stare at the meals, in awe. I swear I could also feel my mouth watering like a starving dog.

"What's the matter, Shaylee?" Dad asked, quietly.

I turned around in surprise. "Nothing, nothing…" I replied. "It's just…"

"I know, nice to have _proper _food, isn't it?" Dad said, strolling over to the table.

I followed him quickly and before I knew it, the three of us began eating the delicious burger and fries that Larry had made for us. I ferociously gnawed upon the food, like I was a starving child, well, because I _was _a starving child. I hadn't eaten a proper meal for days, and I'd barely eaten anything the day before, as it was hectic with our escape to the city. Larry, as it turned out, was an excellent cook. Well, it was hardly surprising he could cook this well because he did own the place and when it was a business he obviously fed a lot of mouths. It was like heaven to me since I barely ate three meals a day. This was one of the few things I was looking forward to during our little stay.

Dad giggled at me as I happily chewed upon my meal. "Calm down, Shay!" he laughed. "You'll give yourself indigestion. You _don't want that_, do you?"

"No, dad," I replied, with my mouth full. I quickly gulped down. "But I'm just so hungry."

"I'm not surprised," Dad said, winking at me, before munching on another fry.

"So Jack," said Larry, grinning. "What was this amazing story you heard this morning, then?"

"Ahh, yes," Dad said, smirking and wiping his hands. "On the news this morning," he began, as he looked directly at me, who leaned forward to listen, "there was this story that this man in Gotham Town was found dead near this estate, just outside his house, in fact, in the middle of nowhere." I grinned as I remembered the badass scene that occurred the day before. "They _don't know_ how it happened, but he was found dead near his house…and _his wife _and _his son _found him…when they came back from shopping, and _so_, they called the police, _but_, they have _no idea _what happened." Dad grew more excited in the next part. "He was _showing blood everywhere_, so they were pretty certain he'd been _killed_ by...somebody. Probably _shot down, _from what they guessed. They have no witnesses, which is _unbelievable_…amazing how no one saw it."

"Aw, man!" Larry said. "The police are so crap they'll never find out!"

"No, no they _won't_."

I giggled under my breath when dad winked at me.

"So what the bastards going to do about it?" Larry asked. "Just gonna let yet another random guy be killed and nothing be done?"

"Well they can't exactly do much," I said. "His wife and son will probably be searching around the whole town with machine guns, so the guy who killed him better watch out."

Dad smirked at me. "Not if he kills them first," he said, waggling his finger at me. "The guy sounds like a nasty piece of work. Probably a bit _crazy_."

"Not as crazy as you, eh, Jack?" Larry laughed.

"Hmm…of course not," Dad replied. "But the guy probably had a _reason_ for doing it. That's what the police don't get. People do these things for a reason…well _most _of time…"

"Wonder what that guy's reason was?"

"Probably a damn good one."

"So what's going to happen to that man's family, dad?" I asked.

"Well…I don't know, Shaylee," Dad answered. "Different families grieve in different ways. They said on the news they're going, to…uh, 'investigate' the case, but, what can they investigate? _No one _has an idea. The guy's wife could have done it for all we know. Yeah, how will they know it was a guy who did it, anyway? Because that's probably what they're thinking."

"Gotham's full of judgemental pricks, we know that, Jack," Larry said.

There were few moments of silence, during which I looked awkwardly around the tavern. I did feel a little awkward sitting round a table with dad and a guy I'd only known a day. I bet it's a bit awkward for any little girl sitting around and eating with two adult males, even if one of them was their dad.

After a few moments, I decided to speak up. "Dad?" He looked at me questionably, taking a bite out of his lettuce-filled burger. "Was there anything on the news about Harleen? You know, what's happened to her and what's been done about mom?"

Larry looked at dad, awkwardly, as dad swallowed and slowly put down his food. He exchanged glances from us both, ruffling his hair, as he tried to come out with something.

"Well, yeah, Shay," he mumbled, finally.

"What did they say?" I asked, eagerly.

"You'll never guess what, pal," Dad said to Larry.

"What? What's happened to her?" Larry asked, sounding slightly worried.

"You know that Arkham place?"

"The _mental asylum_?"

"For the criminally insane."

"What?" Larry paused as he stared at dad. "She hasn't been sent there, has she?" Dad nodded slowly, glancing down at his plate of food. Larry let out a surprised laugh. "You're not _serious_?"

"What's an asylum?" I asked, puzzled.

"It's this place where they send people who are, well…" Larry's voice trailed as he looked at dad, for help.

"For people who are crazy, honey," Dad finished. "Not just a crazy personality, but, like…crazy in their minds."

"Oh. So, she's been sent there because she's crazy?" I questioned.

"Yeah. 'Criminally insane.' Took them a while to figure _that one _out," Dad said. "But, yeah, she pleaded guilty to…you know…"

"To shooting her," Larry finished.

"_Yeah_…and so they sent her to Arkham because they've _finally _realised she's turning insane."

"Don't know what's happened to that girl," Larry said, shaking his head. "What's driven her mad, anyway?"

"_God knows_."

I desperately tried to lighten the mood. "Probably because she hung around with _you_, dad, that drove her crazy."

Larry burst out laughing, almost choking on a fry, which made both me and dad crack up.

"Wow, she's definitely _your _kid, Jack!" he chuckled. "Always cracking jokes."

"Yeah, she is," Dad smiled at me. "Such a joker. Don't wanna cross Shaylee Jane. She's done dangerous things before now." My heart skipped a beat, but I relaxed as dad gave me a cheeky wink, assuring me he wasn't about to spill any stories about some of my horrific little incidents. He paused, before going back into serious-mode. "They say they're still looking for my whereabouts. Well, they're gonna have a hard time!"

"Are you sure they won't find us?" I asked dad.

"Of course they won't, baby girl," Dad said, patting my arm, gently. "No one ever comes here anymore. Why would someone visit a closed tavern? Besides, they'll expect to be finding us in the town, which is why we came here, to the city. I _knew _I could count on Larry."

I laughed, too, as we all finished our meals off. I didn't leave a crumb, but it did fill me up from head to toe. Dad was the last to finish, as he took his time. He was constantly glancing up at his mind, again, carefully eating his meal. Larry took my plate and his and started to tidy up as dad finished off. Dad let out a gigantic burp when he finished, making us both laugh, hysterically.

Larry came over, laughing just as hard. "Enjoy that, man?" he asked, as he took his plate.

"_Marvellous_," Dad said, grinning widely. "Hey, pal?" Larry turned around to face him. "You wanna go out? I'm _so bored _and I need _something _to do…"

Larry sighed. "Jack you _know _we can't."

"I need to get back into the swing, pal," Dad said. "And by the looks of things, _you_ need to, too."

"What about Shaylee?"

"I'll be fine," I said, reassuringly. I just wanted to head back to my picture. "I've been left alone loads of times."

"I'm a bit concerned just leaving a ten year old here on her own, especially when the front door is dodgy."

"I'll be _fine_. I'm not little anymore."

"I don't know…"

"Why do you worry so much?" I chuckled.

"He was never usually like this, Shay," Dad cut in. "He used to be the big man around here. Even more so than me, he hasn't been recently. _Strange_, isn't it?"

I looked at Larry, questionably. No one said anything for a while, as Larry sighed and put dad's plate away. I looked back at dad, wanting an explanation. He immediately read my thoughts.

"I'll tell ya some other time, baby," he whispered.

The day continued with me finishing off that design. I ended up using yellow, a colour I _never _used as it was too bright for my liking, but I had to use it to make the jester look sneaky. I took inspiration from another one of Chase's drawings he'd shared with me. He drew his dad holding a large gun in his right hand, bursting flames from the end. He drew his dad looking like a monster, instead I drew a mischievous-looking jester holding it, coloured in the purest red and yellow, outlined with black and a black jester's hat. Once again, I wrote the words 'Joker' down the side, but this time, one black and one red. I made the jester's expression one of pure enjoyment, a bit like the first card.

Dad and Larry did go out, eventually, but only because dad said he'd help do the shopping, as Larry needed to buy more food for us both over the next few days. Dad went dressed in his purple coat and a purple checkered tie and even used some of Larry's hair gel to make his hair look different so it was harder to identify him. Thankfully, he didn't get caught, which was such a relief to me, because that was the only thing that made me worry. That one day dad would be caught.

Larry locked the door the best he could and put a chair in front of our spare bedroom, so I'd be safe. They returned later on, they didn't just have the shopping. Dad came in the room to find me lying on the bed and cuddling onto the teddy bear that was randomly in there. He slammed down $50 in my hand and told me to keep it. Nothing else. There was no explanation or anything. I made the pretty obvious conclusion that he and Larry had stolen it.

My Joker card designs developed over the next few days. Dad said he didn't want to see them until I was completely satisfied. Because I was an awkward little kid, I wanted to show him at least four different ones. The two I already talked about, well, I redid them many times until it looked perfect. For once, I tried to use techniques I'd learnt in school. We'd learnt about shading, so I tried to use that. I wasn't completely oblivious in school, you know. When I wanted to know, I did take things in (reading and writing _does not _count). But then again, those things were only in art lessons.

It was lucky it was summer vacation at that time. It didn't even matter, because even if I was in school at that time I wouldn't care about being away for a few weeks or so. They could give me all the detentions in the world. I was hiding in the City for my own safety. If the school ever asked why, I'd just get dad to talk to them. Then they wouldn't question ever again.

I also got to know Larry a bit more. He wasn't so bad, he was dad's friend, although dad barely talked to him our whole stay. He mostly only talked to him when we sat around the table and ate, or when they had a cigarette outside, or if they did actually go out into the City together. Dad mostly stayed with me, as always entertaining me with his stories and jokes. We tried not to speak about mom. The thought of her just made me feel this pain that I didn't want to feel.

When dad took his nightly break outside to have several cigarettes (which frankly annoyed me), I took the opportunity to get to know Larry, as I wasn't scared of him anymore. He wasn't as intimidating as I'd remembered on the first day I saw him, he didn't even look as crummy as I'd remembered, either.

"What was this place like when it was a proper tavern?" I asked him, one evening in the den area.

"I really enjoyed it," he told me. "Every day people would come in and it's _such _a great feeling when people enjoy food you cook yourself. Your dad used to come down here sometimes, back when we were lads."

"So why did you stop it then?" I asked.

"Well, we had to close it down because, well, me and my wife at the time…we were arguing."

"Why?"

"It's a long story. We just lost money anyway. We couldn't afford to run it, which led to arguments. Of course, marriage has arguments, but it seemed to be constant with us, about _everything_."

"A bit like _my _mom and dad," I sighed.

"I couldn't run it without her," Larry continued, "and we ended up getting divorced…"

"Why?"

Larry sighed. "You're too young to know. Maybe your dad can tell you when you're older."

"Was it anything to do with dad? That you broke up?"

"Oh no, not at all. But like I said, you'll understand when you're older."

I decided not to question him anymore after that, as it got very awkward indeed. It did make me especially curious, though, so I kept it stored in my mind, to ask dad. Surely he would know.

We'd been staying there for four days, and all was well so far. Nobody found us, and dad checked the news every morning to check the police's progress. Every morning was the same, there was no success in finding the whereabouts of Jack Napier, until the point they said he'd mysteriously gone missing. The car we'd stolen remained parked outside the tavern. There was one point, someone knocked on the door and questioned why a car, especially one with a window smashed off, was casually parked in a 'No Parking' area. Cheek of the man! Who was he? He wasn't the police, he had no right. A bit like that man dad shot the say we made our getaway. Larry gave that guy a piece of his mind. It would have been idiotic if dad had talked to him, because then we really would have been discovered. Larry handled it really well, though, although he wasn't as scary as dad was, but he still was downright intimidating and sneaky with him, almost like he'd done it many times before.

Dad was so clever. Staying in what was actually the quietest and most deserted part of the City. Well, it was then. I bet at one it was crowded with people, especially when Joey's was still a business.

Whenever dad went out to do something, he used one of his disguises. Not just those weird purple coats and ties, but sometimes he used Larry's clothes, without asking of course, and pretended to be him, wearing one of his jackets and baseball caps and constantly gelling his hair a different style. He looked totally different, it almost like _was _someone else.

I didn't hear any voices since that morning. Dad managed to keep me calm and happy the whole time, which made me more relaxed. I didn't get angry, not once, luckily for Larry. There was no _need _to be angry. Nothing was yelling at me, no one was bossing me around, I could just relax and mind my own business. Although, weirdly, sometimes I horribly missed seeing action. I longed to see dad back in the swing of things, seeing and taking in his comebacks and amazing points of view. I didn't worry, though, as I knew it would all return when we would go back to Gotham Town.

On the fourth night, before we went to sleep, I had just finished drawing yet again, but this time, I was fully confident with my finished designs. Dad burst into our spare room, after coming back from a long time in the bathroom. I had used it just before him, to use Larry's amazing shower. It was small, but the thing blasted you in the face. It was so immense.

"You were a long time," I said, when he came in.

"Ah, Shay, you _know _me. Always a _long time _in the bathroom. Had to get this stupid gel out of my hair. Decided I'm not going to use it anymore. Time for something _different_."

He chucked his shoes off and flung himself on the bed, with a huge sigh. I turned myself around on the desk chair to face him. Dad was pulling this creepy smile as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Are you okay, daddy?" I asked, sweetly.

"Yeah," he answered, plainly. "Just…just having a little _thought_."

I shuffled in my chair. "What are you thinking?"

He paused. "Shay, do you ever feel like…something's…taking over you?"

My heart stopped. "W-What you mean?"

"You see, I'm not…I'm _not alone_. There's something…some_one_ in me wanting to come out-t. I don't know what it is, or who it is…_but_, it's…it's interesting. I don't know, ever since…that day…that day your mom was shot…I've been feeling a bit…I don't know. Different. Have I been acting different, my darlin'?"

"Uhh, I-I don't think you have," I stuttered.

"Hmmm. I don't know. Maybe it's my head messing me up. It's probably _all _a practical joke my mind is playing on me."

It took me a while to let this curious situation sink in.

But I decided not to talk about it. It scared me a little bit.

"Dad…"

"Yes, precious?"

"I-I've finished my drawings you wanted me to do."

I lifted up the four pieces of paper with a hopeful smile. A smirk slowly appeared on dad's lips as he outstretched his arm.

"Can I see?" he asked, excitedly, his voice becoming high-pitched.

I immediately got out of my seat and slowly handed the pictures to dad, who examined them. I sat on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for his response. He sat still for a while, tracing my first drawing with his finger. I waited nervously, I couldn't tell what he was thinking because his face was just blank.

Then he finally looked at me, still giving nothing away.

"Hmm, you use, ah, a lot of _black_, don't ya, Shaylee?" he chuckled.

"Black is my favourite colour, you know it is," I replied. "Besides, I thought it would look cooler if it was black. Especially this one." I pointed at the one I'd drawn first. "Look, dad, even the writing at the side is black. It doesn't need fancy colours to look cool."

I smiled at dad, who laughed quietly.

"Anything you say, Picasso," he said, patting my head. His voice was spookily calm. "How many…how many of these are you planning to do?"

"Uhh…" I twiddled with my fingers. "I don't know. I've done four, but, I can do as many as you want, dad."

"Hmmm…good…good." He traced the shapes on the paper with his finger, a sudden smile pursing his lips. "Well, if that's so…maybe you _can _make more for me."

"Do…do you like it then, dad?" I asked, nervously.

Dad placed the picture on his lap, whilst grinning at me.

"Of _course _I do. This is…I have no words. Such a talented little girl you are, my Shaylee." I exhaled a huge sigh of relief. "But there's something wrong." He picked up the picture again and looked curiously at it.

My smile faded, as I shuffled a little on the bed.

"Wh-What's wrong, dad?" I questioned, putting my finger to my mouth.

"I have…nothing to complain of these pictures, baby," he explained, taking his time with his words. "They're very…it's very…me. I like this one. You know, the one that looks like a devil? But the thing is...they're…_too big_."

"Too big?"

"Yeah, we need them on a smaller piece of paper. You know? So it's about the same size as a normal playing card."

"Aw, dad, I didn't bring any scissors," I said, totally disgusted with myself. "I can't cut them..."

"Don't worry, I'm sure Larry has some. But could you do that for me, beautiful?"

"Yes, of course," I said, confidently.

"Good girl," he said, filing through them one more time, before passing them back to me. "Such a talented little girl, you are."

"Not really, dad," I said, standing up and placing them on the table again. "I'm only good at drawing, nothing else."

"You'll find you're good at a _lot more _than that, when you _grow up_, sweetheart."

Dad proceeded to getting changed into his night clothes while I started to draw again, starting from scratch and drawing miniature versions of the designs, like dad had told me to. I tried to do it the same size as a normal playing card to impress dad.

I was taking my time with it, starting with the third design, slowly sketching out the swirls one by one around the edge of the paper. The Jester in this design was in the centre of the paper and looked menacing with his colourless eyes and his devilish smile. Around the main drawing were swirly patterns, including the diamond, club, spade and heart in each of the four corners. I delicately shaded the heart and diamond a crimson red, before outlining them with my thick black ink pen.

I was so absorbed in what I was doing, I didn't hear dad humming to himself behind me. I finally noticed it after I finished colouring in the tiny diamond. Dad was making funny little humming sounds and when I turned around, I saw him slumping in the bed, with his arms flopping either side of him. He was staring up towards the ceiling again, his hair covering his droopy eyes.

"Dad?" I giggled.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, as he darted his head towards me.

"Dad, what are you doing?" I asked, still chuckling.

"I'm thinking."

"What about?"

"Just about…something." I decided to leave him be. I continued to draw the smaller version and got very annoyed when my hand started to ache halfway through. I slammed the pen down and groaned, loudly. "Hey, hey, Shaylee, what's up?" Dad asked.

"My hand's aching," I complained, folding my arms, like I was spoiled five year old.

"Aw, Shaylee, baby," Dad said, making his voice sound overly-sympathetic. "Come 'ere. You wanna little cuddle? Might make you feel better."

I whirled around to see him already outstretching his arms and beaming at me. I couldn't help but smile back at him, reluctantly going over to him and nestling up to him. I found it strange how dad suddenly decided he'd be affectionate, he was really only the cuddly type when a lot was on his mind or if a lot was on my mind. But I didn't question it. I just went along with it, happily laying in his massive arms as dad stroked my hair like he would a pampered cat.

It took a while, but dad eventually whispered, "I'm so proud of you, you know, Shaylee."

I stared at him, peculiarly. "What for? I haven't–"

"You haven't complained about _anything_. You've been _so good _and let daddy do his thing. Not once have you moaned about getting away for a while. You've just minded your own business, but you've still been good for me, haven't ya? And those pictures…they are simply _wonderful_. You're a tough nut, aren't ya? Coping so well with everything about mom..."

"Dad…"

"Yes?"

I gulped. "Dad, I-I know I shouldn't miss her, so why do I?"

Dad sighed as he leaned his head on mine. "Because she was your mother. Simple as that. You instantly have a bond with your mother as _soon as your born_…I know I did…and even if that relationship crashes down, and no matter how black your heart becomes, you'll always have room for a little bit of, uh, _love_ for her."

I let the moment sink in as we stayed there in silence for a long while. Those wise words that dad had told me will remain with me forever, because he was right. I guess I did still love mom. A little. I wish I didn't spend as much time crying for her attention and more time crying because I wasn't used to her not being there.

We were interrupted by Larry quietly opening the door, and looking in on us.

"Hey," he whispered. "Aw, look at you both. You look absolutely shattered, man."

"I am, after today," Dad replied.

Larry and dad had been out that afternoon, while I was completing the designs. I'm not sure what they did, but judging by dad's mood when they returned, it appeared to be successful.

Larry chuckled. "Well, I'm goin' to bed, now."

"Okay, pal," Dad said. He sat up and gently lay me down as Larry started closing the door again. "Ooh, Larry," Dad called after him. Larry peeped his head through the door again. "I think, if tomorrow, we have a…_lazy day_…and nothing happens…you know, there's nothing on the news about them being on my tracks...then the day after, I think we'll head back."

"You really think so?" Larry asked.

"Yeah, I mean, we've been alright, living here…and no one's found us…even after we've been out in the City no one's bothered to report us…maybe because they didn't _recognise me_…but, I think it's safe to return home. But, we'll give it another day, just to be _safe_."

"If you say, so, dude," Larry yawned. "Okay, well, goodnight you pair of goofballs."

"Later," Dad said, slumping back down on the bed.

"Night, Larry," I called, waving.

He closed the door behind him, and then dad instantly turned to me, lowering his gravelly voice, giving it an eerie edge.

"Do you want to know…what I was talking about the other day?" Dad asked.

"What?" I said, sounding confused.

"About Larry being the _big man_ before he became worried about _everything_?"

"Well, dad, he was talking about his wife the other day…"

"No. Was he really?" Dad tried hard to not to erupt into laughter. "What did he tell you?"

"That they argued and they lost money so he had to shut this place down."

"That's only _half _the story. D'ya wanna know the truth?" I nodded, beaming widely at him. He pulled me closer by lightly pushing my neck towards him. "Larry's wife, well, ex-wife now…Marilynn her name was, beautiful woman. She had this problem. Uh, how do I put this...you know…how Larry used to hang around with me and Harleen and that? Well, she always thought he flirted with Harleen. She was a paranoid little freak. The thing is, when they owned this tavern together…they got a load of men who came in and gambled every night. I told you what that is, didn't I?" I nodded. "_Well_, they were losing money as it is…so Marilynn gambling the money away wasn't exactly _helping_. Larry was always with us, you know, doing _awesome _stuff, while he left her to look after the place all the time. Obviously that _annoyed her_. I got dragged into it, only because I wanted provide for you and your mom, but…He used to be _the man_ at it. He did it because he _could_. He even showed me some tricks, huh? You know, how to give people a piece of my mind, how to use all these different kinds of guns and that. You could say he taught me everything."

"So that's why you're so good at not getting caught!" I said, excitedly.

"Exactly, Shaylee. _Anyway_...Marilynn got into gambling with these guys a little too much…Larry didn't like that. _Not at all_. Well, all the crap about the gambling and the stuff with Harleen, it crashed their marriage into pieces and this old place went down too…"

"So did Larry actually flirt with Harleen, dad?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"Well…you could say that. Harleen thought nothing of it. In fact she could take it. She just did it to shut him up."

"Do what?"

"Uhh…nothing a young, innocent girl like _you _should know…"

"Aw, please, dad…"

Dad sighed, before grinning slightly. "You could say I caught them at it..."

"What?"

"Ah-da-da-da…let me finish. It ripped me to shreds, because, well, that's _not _what we do in _our gang_. It wasn't about flirting, it was about showing people what we think of 'em. _Then_…Larry went all emo and said he wasn't going to do none of it anymore. For a while he ran this place on his own, and I still visited him, but…he just couldn't take it. Marilynn _leaves_. Now he's still here on his own. But me and Harleen still carried on with it, meeting _better people_. She was never into Larry anyway…and now, obviously he can't _stand her_."

"So is that why he worries all the time?"

"He don't want to be caught dead doing it anymore. It reminds him of his past. He's given it up, but, I suppose I still tolerate him because we've been friends since we were kids. Caught him nicking something yesterday, though. So he's not _completely _given it up, has he?"

"Did Larry ever meet mom?"

"No, he never did."

"Why not?"

"Ahh…details…details. They just didn't want to. He was aware of her though."

Dad paused and glanced upwards, still holding me gently by the neck. I managed to wriggle away and sit up to think, only to be held creepily around the back by dad.

"Dad!" I squealed.

"What?" he laughed.

"What you _doing_?"

"What? Aren't I allowed to give you a hug, honey?"

"Yeah, but, just a bit random."

"I wanted to get off the subject. My life back then was so much more complicated than it is now. Now, it's just…well it's _too simple_. Then, it was like, hang out with those guys, visit the tavern, be part of the gang, to then be the _leader _of the gang _and _look after my precious little girl…which of course is the most important." I laughed as dad squeezed me harder. He then whispered, "And you know what?"

"What?"

"Because you've been _such a good girl_ for daddy, tomorrow, I'm going to treat you."

My heart started racing. "W-What?"

"Yeah, you know that money I gave you? That $50?"

"Yeah…"

"Go by some hair dye tomorrow. Go on a little adventure. I know you've always wanted to dye your hair. Go do it, as a reward for being so good."

I wanted to dive into a hug but I couldn't because he was holding me so tight. Instead I bounced up and down, squealing excitedly.

"Really?" I cried.

"Yes, princess!" Dad answered, letting me go at last and turning my head to face him. "Rewards come to those who are good for me." He roughly ruffled my hair.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I shrieked, leaping on him until he collapsed onto the bed, with me on top of him.

We both laughed happily, as dad picked me up and hugged me tightly.

"Shush, shush, shush," he snickered. "Larry's in bed."

"Oh, god, I forgot!" I said, spluttering into giggles again.

"It's okay, just calm yourself down now," Dad said. "Get yourself ready for bed. You have a little _adventure _to go on tomorrow, like a big girl!"

We fell asleep within minutes that night, partly because I had exhausted myself by getting so worked up, but dad was knackered as it was.

The next day, I dressed myself in my zebra-patterned t-shirt and threw my breakfast down my throat in seconds flat. Dad helped me get ready, even flapping one of Larry's baseball caps onto my head.

"Dad!" I laughed when threw it on.

"Aw, don't you look just adorable?" He lifted me off my feet, spinning his screaming ten-year-old daughter in the air.

After lunch, me and dad immediately headed out the door. Dad gave me his backpack when we in the fresh air, standing outside our stolen car. We'd explained to Larry we were doing during breakfast, and he had a lot to say on the matter, going on about how dangerous it was out there for a little kid to wander off into the City shopping mall, without a parent. Dad told him it was an opportunity for me to do finally do something by myself, to be aware of the dangers in the City, to be aware of the people, and to see just how pathetic people really were.

Dad walked me to the end of the street, holding my hand tightly. I was all suited and ready, wearing my purple cardigan and that silly cap Larry let me borrow. He had no choice, really, dad wanted me to wear it, because of the sun. I personally thought I suited it. Just before I ventured off, dad kneeled down to my level and looked out into the busy streets. He was still gripping my hand. I didn't dare let go of it.

"Now, Shaylee," he said, importantly, "You know where you're going? You remember my directions?"

"Yeah," I answered, nodding. "Straight ahead, past the bank and round the corner. Then it's the beauty shop on the second street, it has green posters in the window."

"_Clever girl_!" Dad exclaimed, as if I was about four. "You have everything you need? Money? Pad? My cell phone?" I nodded. "That's good…very good." He glanced away from me for a second, before facing me again. He had his thinking face on. "Just a thought…" he added.

"Yeah?"

"Take this as well, while you're at it." Dad dug into his inside pocket of his coat and revealed his small, black handgun. I gasped in horror when I saw it. "What? What's the matter, Shaylee?"

"Dad, that's…that's a _gun_!" I cried.

"Shhh…yes, I know that."

"And you want me to take it?"

Dad grinned naughtily at me, before forcing my free hand in front of me and slamming the gun in my open palm.

"I'm not letting anyone mess with my Shaylee," he said, craftily. "Show them whose boss, honey. It has bullets in it, ready." I stared at him. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Oh, and take some advice, Shay? Put it your bag. You don't want people seeing you carrying it round in your hand, do you? You don't want to get into trouble with the cops, now, do you?" Dad laughed, loudly. "Only use when necessary. And I mean, _very _necessary. Give it here. I'll put it in for ya." I carefully gave it him back as he unzipped my bag and placed it inside. "And don't be nervous, Shay. If something happens, then just call Larry. His number is my phone, just give us a call and I'll come getcha, okay?"

I nodded, nervously. "Okay."

"One more thing," he said. "What colour you gonna get?"

"I want black," I replied.

"Hmm…why am I not _surprised_? That's fine, but, uh, could I ask for one more thing?"

"Yes?" I said, listening closely.

"I want you get another one for me."

"What?"

"Get some green dye for me, Shaylee."

"_Green_?"

"Yeah…green is good."

"What _for_?"

"Uhh…just for a little experiment, okay?"

"Uhh…o-okay."

"There's my good girl. Now. You ready?"

"Of course," I said, trying to sound as confident as possible.

Dad gently kissed my forehead before standing up. He gave me the nod and a little nudge to venture off, which I did.

I took my time walking in the directions that dad had told me. They were pretty straight forward. Larry had given me a map in case I got lost but I simply refused to use it. I was very sensible, using the roads properly and planning out where I was walking to next. I was in awe of the beautiful City, staring up at the large buildings and feeling to cool summer breeze on my face. For once I actually felt free and happy, taking in the luxurious place, and constantly getting a surge of inspirations for future drawings.

After experiencing all of this, I didn't want to go back to our little flat in Gotham Town.

It was only when I got into the shopping place itself that I had to stop and ask for directions. A noticed a tall woman, reading a newspaper on a bench, and I cautiously walked over to her.

"Excuse me?" I said, making my voice clear. She put her paper down and looked at me with pure impatience. I didn't let that put me off. "Do you know where the beauty shop is? One that sells hair dye?"

She stared at me curiously, before pointing down the street, towards the left side.

"Down there," she sighed. "Third shop from the end, on the right. Gotham's Beauty."

"Oh, okay. Thank you," I said politely.

She didn't say anything and went straight back to newspaper. I walked off in that direction.

"Bit rude," I muttered under my breath.

I entered the large beauty store, which was decorated in pinks and black, making me feel sick. I _hated _pink and black together. I wandered around for ages trying to find what I was looking for. I was eventually directed by the shop assistant to the far end of the store, where there was a large shelf-full of different hair dyes.

I was overwhelmed by the different choices, all different brands and colours. I was there for about fifteen minutes trying to decide which black hair dye to choose. That's when the shop assistant, a very camp man, came over to help me.

"Can I help you, young lady?" he asked in his breathy voice.

"Uh, yeah, please," I replied. "I need some black hair dye, but I don't know which one to choose."

He looked at me, a little surprised, but lucky for him, he didn't question it. "What shade were you thinking of?"

"Quite dark."

He took his time going through all the different options, explaining them one by one. I got fed up with this and eventually just chose the cheapest one. Just before he left me be, I tugged on his shirt.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any green hair dye?"

"_Green_?" he asked, surprised, widening his eyes.

"Yeah, green."

"Ooh, I'm not sure. I could check upstairs for you."

"Okay, yeah," I said, as I was growing impatient.

It turns out that they did have some, but it was majorly expensive. Over $30 for the bottle. As ridiculous as that was, it didn't matter because I could just about by both with my $50.

I was so glad I'd decided to put my money folded in my pocket because my gun would have been seen if I opened my bag. I was surprised they didn't have a detector or something to catch people carrying them, but, dad obviously knew they had none, otherwise he wouldn't have given me it. He's not stupid.

I didn't get lost walking back to Joey's Tavern, luckily. I had to concentrate hard though, trying to remember my way back. I had to ask for directions again, but at least that time I didn't have some impatient cow, I had a cheery old man.

A lot of people stared at me when I walked past them. I wish I could use the gun on people who just gave me a weird stare, but I could only use it when necessary. That little journey gave me an insight to Gotham's society of judgemental idiots, as on the way back I witnessed a fight going on between two teenage boys. I stood and watched for a while, until some woman nagged me to stay away, as it was unsuitable for me. Unsuitable? I wanted to laugh in her face. I'd witnessed my own father hold someone at gun point, not only that, but I'd seen so many fights happen at Little Hill Elementary. So how was that _unsuitable_?

God, it's a funny world we live in.

It took me a while to return back to the bar, I got back just before the sun was going down. Dad was overjoyed to see me. He and Larry were sitting in the bar area, both with a pint in their hands. I came in and obediently wiped my feet on the carpet and shut the door behind me, as far as it would go.

"I'm back!" I called.

"Baby!" Dad said, happily, walking over to me. "How was your little adventure?"

"Amazing!" I said, smiling widely. "Look, I got the hair dye. I nearly got lost on the way back and got caught up watching a fight, but I was fine. I found my way there and back by following the signs. No one got funny with me with me either."

"I _knew_ you could do it!" Dad cried, stroking my cheek and smiling, proudly. "So how much was all of that?"

"I had just enough, the green one was so much money."

"Money grabbing beggars," Dad laughed.

"Green what?" Larry asked.

"Nothing, pal!" Dad called, just as I was about to say something. He shook his head slightly, as a sign not to speak a word of it. "Well done, precious. Give me that."

I handed him the plastic bag with the dye in it, as well as his own bag, which he flung over his shoulder.

"So what's happening now?" I asked.

"I'm starving, you want some dinner?" Larry asked, getting up.

"Aw, yeah!" I exclaimed.

Dad chuckled. "You go and finish those drawings, princess. We're heading off,tomorrow and I want them before we go home. No one's coming after me now, I promise ya. Too busy dealing with Harleen."

"Okay!" I said, giving him a hug.

He hugged me back and then out of nowhere, lifted me off my feet, with a playful groan, making me squeal loudly. Dad laughed as he carried me up the stairs and into our spare bedroom. He gently placed me on the bed.

"You've proved to me today you can go out into the big world by yourself and do things on your own," Dad said, just before heading out the door. "I know now you're big and tough, just like your old man. You can look after yourself, and defend yourself. I'm proud of you, my darling. And just remember, Shaylee, whenever you come face to face with someone who seems like an enemy, just remember you're _my _daughter, no one else's. Think about everything I've told you."

"You're the best!" I said, proudly.

"I try. See you in a bit, sweetie."

Dad winked at me before shutting the door behind him.


	9. No Longer A Victim

_**This is one of my favourite chapters I've written in this story :)**_

_**NOTE: Contains strong language, violence and threatening behaviour.**_

* * *

**Chapter 8 - No Longer A Victim**

I felt a little sad when we had to leave the next day. I didn't fully understand why. I missed my bedroom more than anything. Sitting at that little desk in that spare bedroom didn't feel as relaxed as drawing in my own bedroom, but I was going to miss being away from the Town. I'd experienced so much by walking through the hectic streets of Gotham City, taking in all of the busyness. I was going to miss the City. Living in a town, you get even more judgemental idiots.

Dad woke me up quite early in the morning and while I got dressed and made sure everything was packed, he checked the news once again just to be safe. He informed me that Harleen was now locked up for good, but there was no news on the police still searching for him at all. Dad wore a fresh new purple coat, complete with a green t-shirt and this time a deep purple tie. I had to force him to brush his hair, which he backcombed, as it was now getting pretty long.

Luckily, our stolen car still remained parked outside, which I found unbelievable. I couldn't believe that hardly anyone had spotted it. Not that it would have mattered, anyway, dad would have dealt with them.

Dad had one final cigarette before we left.

"Where you want my suitcase, dad?" I asked.

Dad enjoyed exhaling the smoke. "Put in the back seat, Shay," he said. "Was a pain at the front last time. Here, I'll open it."

He pulled out that golden key from his inside pocket like an illusionist, and unlocked the car with a sharp turn of the key. He helped me put my case in the back before flicking the cigarette away and rubbing it away into the ground with his feet. As always, dad was fully prepared, loading a gun inside his coat as well as his extra one in his bag, along with extra bullets. He had all his belongings shoved into his bag as well as my own, included that face-paint he never used. The hair dye I had bought were still in that plastic bag, which I put my Joker card designs in as well.

Larry came out to see us off, wearing that scruffy black jacket he was wearing the first time I saw him. Dad put his hands in pockets as he faced him.

"Well, Jack, I…I hope you get back okay," Larry said.

"Ah, don't worry, we will," Dad replied. "I'm a safe driver, aren't I, Shaylee?"

I nodded even though I knew he was joking.

"See you again?" Larry asked, holding his hand out for a handshake. Dad glanced at his hand, before grinning at him and reluctantly removing his own hand from his pocket and slowly shaking Larry's hand.

"Yeah, yeah…" Dad said. "Sure. I'll come visit ya again. Was…_nice _to see you again."

"Yeah, you too. And to meet your daughter."

Larry smiled at me, but I struggled to do the same back.

"And you know we appreciate you letting us hide here," Dad said, sounding very serious. "Not that you would have had a choice, anyway. I wasn't letting them find us. No way. But they won't now. They'll leave me alone, and they won't take Shaylee."

Larry then turned away from dad and kneeled down to me, who looked at him, curiously.

"Shaylee," he said, smiling. "It was wonderful to meet you at last."

"It was nice to meet you, too," I replied.

"If you're in trouble, you can always come here for help, okay?"

"Thank you, Larry," I said, appreciatively. I let that thought hammer into my mind. "Thank you for all the food and stuff."

"You're welcome."

Larry stood up and dad forced him into a handshake again.

"Later, pal," he said, managing to smile.

"See you around, Jack. You know I'm always here."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, Shaylee, into the car now, baby. Let's go home."

I immediately ran over to the other side of the car and got in, strapping on my seatbelt. I waited for dad, who gave Larry a little manly hug before getting into the driver's seat with the window still shattered off.

Dad revved up the car with his special golden key, waving to Larry, who waved back. He slowly started driving down the narrow road, as I waved frantically to Larry too.

I looked up at dad, who smiled back down at me.

"_Okay_, to Gotham Town we go then!" he cried, winking at me.

"Dad…"

"What?"

"You don't have your seatbelt on," I giggled.

Dad sighed and halted the car as he quickly strapped himself in, with me giggling as he did. He then playfully buzzed my belly.

"You're a cheeky monkey, you are," he laughed.

"Hey, I'm only looking out for danger," I said, winking.

We both laughed as dad continued to drive on, with me flipping on the radio. Before I knew it, we were speeding down Gotham City's endless streets. I rolled down my own window and leaned out into the gushing wind, taking in the commotion and busy atmosphere that you just didn't get in the miserable little town. Dad told me to shut up when I started randomly screaming, but I just couldn't help it.

I eventually wore myself out, falling asleep when dad turned the radio off.

I was startled when I woke up on the sofa in our own flat. I flickered my eyes open to see dad, sitting next to me, with his hand on my head. I groaned and stirred slightly, making dad giggle.

"Welcome home, baby," he whispered. I sat up, stretching and rubbing my eyes with a groan. "Well, someone's tired, aren't they?" Dad wrapped his arms around me, and I nearly fell asleep on him again.

"Dad?" I whispered, after a few moments.

"Hmm?"

"How long I been asleep?"

"Ahh, a couple of hours. I fell asleep, too, baby. Was woken up by my stupid head." I nuzzled up to him, sympathetically. I nearly started crying again. I despised it _so _much. "Don't worry, I'm fine." He stroked my head in reassurance.

"What did you do with the car?"

"I out it back where I found it, of course."

"_Did you_?"

"Yes, Shay, maybe then they can figure out _what happened _to the guy." He paused, chuckling to himself as I yawned. "Well, _you _wore yourself out, didn't ya, ya silly billy?"

I giggled. "I got too excited."

"Well, no need anymore. We're back in this silly place. Nothing exciting here is, there?" We shared a laugh as dad flicked on the TV, the news immediately coming on. "Ahh, _not this _again," Dad complained. "Had enough about Harleen."

I eventually went back to drawing again, but I went back to drawing normal things. Well, normal for me. Now I'd had the experience in the City, I drew a scene in Gotham City, with the huge skyscrapers, with me in the middle of the page, glancing around in awe. I drew myself with black hair, with my fringe flopping in front of my eyes, like Chase's hair. I drew the City at night, with twinkling stars in the black sky and the shop doors wide open. I sketched little displays in every shop, of course the clothes shops having amazing short-cut dresses and I even drew one of dad's purple coats on display.

Dad asked if I wanted a campfire night that evening, and of course I agreed. Dad threw the Gotham's Beauty plastic bag in the fire, which burst into flames beautifully. He also rummaged through the draws in his room, finding some ancient prescription letters in there. I had no idea about them, but dad said they didn't matter anymore. One of them was for mom, as one time she did _try _and get help for her drinking, but there was no way of taming the alcoholic. The other one was dad's, regarding his schizophrenia. That was the last time he'd ever been to a doctor, and he told that was when mom was pregnant with me. He said that he stormed out that day because if he didn't he would have hit the doctor, claiming they had no clue what he was going through.

Dad let them both rot in the campfire, along with a picture of him and mom when they first got together. I looked at it before dad disposed of it, and I'd never seen mom and dad look so happy. It made my heart drop. Sometimes I wished they were still like that, as much as I loved my wild life, I sometimes wished I had a normal family life, like some of the kids in my school had.

Me and dad stayed deep in conversation for hours that evening, talking about our little adventure we'd had over those six days and dad went on a happy rant about how shit the police were for not finding him. Dad ordered a pizza for us, and we both happily munched on it while we chatted. He promised me that I would never ever be taken away from him, because I didn't _have _anyone else. My grandparents were all deceased, and I had no other relatives. I only had dad.

It was going great until dad brought up something I was dreading: returning to school.

My enthusiasm was destroyed when I realised I only had a week left before I had to go back. It was near the end of August, for me, the most depressing time of the year.

"Remember what you proved the other day?" Dad said, looking at me, cunningly. "You proved to your old dad that you can go out and do things by yourself, and you aren't even in high school yet. Oh-ho-ho…_wait _until you get into high school, Shay! Huh, but you can take on anything _now_."

"So why is Kayley Lyons still picking on me?" I whined.

"Is she still giving you trouble? This Kayley girl sounds like one of the those silly bimbos whose going to grow up working at McDonald's," Dad scoffed. "You could take _her_ on, any day of the week."

"I have. I _told _you I've beaten her up because she annoys me. But I'm _always _punished for it, dad. She _always _gets away with it."

"_Never _let her get away with it, baby girl. Prove to the teachers just _how horrible_ she really is. People like that, who make someone feel _so low_ just for their own pleasure, huh…I remember. You didn't think _I _didn't face idiots like that? Tons of 'em. But I was lucky, you see, because Larry beat the crap out of them for me, the little scumbag." He chuckled. "I know you can show people not to mess with you. I know there's a fighter in you, Shaylee, just like me. Don't let _that _stupid bitch ruin everything. You understand, precious?"

"Yes, daddy."

"That's my girl."

I tried not to think about going back to school for the rest of the week. Thinking about it, and recalling all the names Kayley had called me, it just racked my brain. I desperately tried to concentrate on my drawings.

One night, two days before I was due to go back to school, I begged dad if I could use his cell phone to ring Chase. He'd given me his house number anyway, even though I told him and told him that we didn't have a phone. Dad never let me use his phone. I don't know why, to be honest with you. I guess he was cautious about who I talked to, but he _knew _Chase was my only friend, and I'd talked about him so much dad practically knew him himself.

"Dad, please," I whined. "I won't be long. I just miss him so much."

"Shaylee, you _know _I have to save my credit. I have to use it to call…uhh…"

"Daddy, please." I fluttered my eyes, innocently at him, tugging on his shirt.

Dad sighed heavily. "Alright, alright…"

"Thank you!" I latched onto him in excitement.

"Hey, come on, get off…" Dad snapped. I immediately let go, but I couldn't help smiling like an idiot again. Dad rummaged through his pocket. "Promise me not to be too long. Give it me straight back."

I took the phone off him, beaming. "I won't be. I promise."

"Go on, then," Dad said, a little calmer.

I rushed into my room and dug into my school bag to find the tiny paper with the number, written down on it. I found it and dialled the number, written in his smudgy blue ink.

I waited impatiently as I heard the phone ring down my ear. It was quickly picked up.

"Hello?" a woman's voice said.

I started to fumble in surprise. "Uhh-uhh…hello," I muttered.

"Who is this?" the voice came again.

"Uhh…it's…it's Shaylee." I desperately tried to make myself seem friendly and sound like I'd spoken on the phone all the time. "Is that Mrs. Delancey?"

Shaylee, what are you _doing_?! You _know_ that his parents are divorced! Why would she have that last name still?!

"It is," she replied.

Oh thank goodness for that.

"Hiya, Mrs. Delancey," I said, cheerfully. "It's Shaylee, Chase's friend from school?"

"Oh, hello Shaylee!" she replied, enthusiastically. Her voice sounded like the typical friendly mother voice, it was so different from my own mother's. "Yes, yes, Chase's has told me all about you." That made me smile like an idiot. "Do you want to talk to him?"

"Yes, please."

"Chase!" I heard her call.

The phone went silent for a minute, but I heard distant talking in the background, followed by loud footsteps. Then I heard Chase's familiar low voice as he took the phone from his mom.

"Hey, tiger!" he greeted in a silly voice.

I laughed and sat on my bed. "Hey, Chase!"

"Wow, you sound happy," he said. "I thought you said you didn't have a house phone?"

"I'm borrowing my dad's cell phone. I had to beg him. He never lets me use it, but I just _had _to talk to you."

"Oh right. Haven't seen you in _ages_, you okay? How you feeling?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm really good."

"Are you?"

I scratched my head in confusion. "Y-Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…" Chase's voice lowered, starting to sound more awkward. "You know, your mom…"

My smile slowly faded as my heart started pounding. "You _know _about that?"

"It was on the news like a few weeks ago."

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

"I'm sorry, Shaylee."

"I'm okay."

An awkward silence followed. "Anyway, you sure you're okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I promise."

"Pretty brutal, wasn't it? Did you see any of it?"

"N-No," I lied.

"Thank God."

"I know."

"How's your dad?"

"He's, uh…he's okay. A bit stressed, but he's fine."

"I'm not surprised. How have you two coped with it?"

"Uhh…we've just spent a lot of time together."

"What you been up to?"

I chuckled. "Oh you wouldn't believe me if I told you. My dad's just been himself, really. Just doing his usual stuff."

"Oh, oh good."

Chase didn't know dad was a criminal. I didn't dare tell him about what dad did in case he went around telling everyone. Not that I didn't trust him, but, I wasn't idiotic. I wasn't going to let the school or anyone in my school know about his criminal lifestyle, otherwise I'd get into big trouble that I couldn't be doing with. The school would phone social services, and dad didn't like that. I would have _betrayed _him if I informed the school. I would never in my right mind do that, even if my mind was slightly crazy. The only thing I told Chase was that we were close and some of the things he's told me.

I decided to change the subject. "So, you looking forward to coming to middle school?"

I heard him sigh on the other end of the phone. "Well, sort of. Me and mom went to the opening evening and it seems okay to me. I had to practically beg mom to let me go to the one in the City than go to Little Hill High like everyone else. It seems much better than Little Hill, anyway."

"_Anywhere _is better than Little Hill," I laughed.

Chase laughed with me. "Yeah, I feel sorry for you having to do one last year. But art classes are really fun, though. The project was actually really fun."

"What is it?" I asked.

"You have to create a portrait, but it has to involve an animal. I did bats, of course. I did a whole jungle on it. Mr. Boyd even said it was good."

"Oh well done swotty trousers."

"Oh, thank you!" Chase laughed.

"It's gonna be so boring with you, Chase."

"Nah, you'll be fine. You're made of steel, Shaylee."

"I'm worried about Kayley."

"Oh, Kayley can suck it." I burst out laughing again. "Her brother goes to Gotham High, he was helping on open evening. He seems like a little spoiled freak, too."

"_Shaylee_!" Dad yelled from outside my bedroom door, making me jump a mile.

"What?" I called back.

"You nearly done? I _need _my phone!"

"Okay, okay, I'll come off now."

"Good."

"Chase?" I sighed back into the phone.

"Yeah?"

"I have to go."

"Aw, really?"

"Yeah, my dad wants his phone back."

"Oh, okay, well I won't make you two argue. I'll let you go."

"Thanks."

"See you soon, tiger. Ring me again some other time? I don't want to lose contact with you."

"I promise I will. You're still my best friend, after all."

"Aw, thanks, Shaylee. It's gonna suck not having you around."

"I'm sure you'll make new friends, Chase."

"I hope so. Well, see you soon, then."

"Okay, see you. Bye."

"Bye."

I ended the call, feeling a bit sad. I strolled out of my room, to find dad already standing outside my door.

"Phone," he commanded. I immediately gave it to him, keeping my mouth shut. He buried it in his pocket, not taking those piercing eyes off me. "You didn't look through my messages, did you?"

I stared at him. "No, dad. Why would I do that?"

"Ah, little children are curious creatures."

"I didn't look through anything. I swear."

"Okay, I believe you." He playfully ruffled my hair up again. "Hey, when _are _you going to dye your hair, Shaylee?"

I stood stiff. I'd completely forgotten about that. "Uhh..I don't know."

"Well, if you're gonna do it, you better find someone else, honey," Dad chuckled. "_I _certainly can't do it."

"Then how are you going to use yours?"

"Hmm…good point, good point. I'll work it out."

"Chase's mom is a hairdresser…"

"Oh that's lovely. Now. Bedtime for you, little one."

"Aw, dad!"

"No, no, no, no…no arguing." Dad's voice turned eerily calm as he gently touched my face. "Go on. To bed. You need to start getting used to early nights again. Can't be tired for hell in the mornings, can you?"

Dad could predict the future. Two days later, I was woken up by dad thumping on my door, crying, "Oh, _Shaylee_! Wake up! Your final year of hell _awaits_!"

I tried so hard to walk into school with an open mind, trying to tell myself it was all going to be okay. Although it was nearly impossible, I cleared my mind of my troubles and thought about what dad and Chase had said. That I was a tough nut, that I _wasn't _about to let anyone stand in my way. You know all that crap about fresh year, fresh start? Well, I tried desperately to take that on board.

But, no. I faced the usual stares from the nerdy kids and giggles as soon as I started my new class in my final year. To make things worse, my teacher turned out to be Mr. Truman, the most boring teacher in the entire school, but I guess that was better than having a teacher who just yelled all the time. Mr. Truman was ancient and was the most soft you could get, which was a bonus for me, as I could outwit him easily.

It had slipped my mind that mom's murder had been over the news over summer vacation, and that nearly every kid in the entire school would have seen it. It was okay, though, as most of them didn't even know that was my mom.

But Kayley Lyons knew. Oh, she knew damn well. She'd met her one time at parents evening in fourth grade, but extremely briefly. She acted all sweet and innocent, fluttering her eyes and twiddling her hair, lying to mom how we were such good friends. I told mom it was all nonsense when we got home. I don't really want to talk about much else, as it lead into an argument between her and dad, how mom was complaining I needed to make more of effort making friends. Why should I make the effort? She was a bully. Who wants to be friends with a bully?

It was the third day in, and it was break time. I was minding my own business, sitting up against the brick wall on the playground, quite happily drawing in my pad, as it was the only thing that kept me occupied. Dad had told me about his robbery the day before, so I drew what he had described. It was coming along very nicely and I was feeling very calm, unusual for the first few days back at school.

That was, until Kayley came strolling over, followed closely by her equally as irritating friends, Frankie James and Jasmine Holder. Frankie and Jasmine were like sheep, in fact they _looked _like sheep. They constantly followed Kayley around because of her so-called 'popularity' and it was like Kayley had hypnotised them to do everything she said.

They came over, giggling to one another and I glared up at them, hugging my picture closer to my chest.

"Hi, Napier," Kayley said in her annoying girly voice.

I didn't answer her, and I tried to go back to my drawing, hoping they'd go away. Their giggling made my skin crawl. I prayed they wouldn't start messing with my head.

"I said, _hi_," Kayley taunted.

"Hello? She was talking to you," Frankie cut in.

I scowled at the three of them. "Hi," I said, mockingly.

"How's little Napier coping without her mommy? Must be terrible."

"Fine, actually, for your information. Don't bring my mom into it."

"Ooh, _sorry_, Shaylee," Jasmine giggled.

"Whatcha drawing, Napier?" Kayley asked, followed by cruel giggles from the other two.

"A picture," I replied.

"Hey, don't talk to me like I'm stupid!" Kayley snapped.

"Whatever," I sighed, continuing to draw.

Suddenly, Kayley snatched my picture out of my hands. I gasped in horror and stood up, where Kayley lifted it up into the air, out of my reach. She was tall for her age and wearing high shoes which just infuriated me further.

"Give it back!" I shouted.

"Look at this, girls," Kayley said, loudly, sharing it with the others. Frankie pushed me to the ground, as Kayley turned away from me and they huddled into a group to look at my drawing. They erupted into horrible laughter, making me feel pain inside. I struggled to my feet and attempted to push into the huddle.

"Give it back, Kayley!" I yelled.

Kayley turned around to face me, with the others still giggling to one another. She once again lifted it out of my reach as I failed to grasp it from her. Kayley laughed in my face as I pathetically jumped to try and get my picture off her.

"Just push her, Kayley!" Frankie laughed.

Kayley did just that and straight after she started heartlessly ripping up my picture to shreds, in front of my face, and chucking down to the floor with me. They all started laughing again as I painfully lay there, helplessly looking at my torn apart picture.

The ground started to turn red, as I panted hard and felt pain rolling down my face.

"You're so stupid!" Kayley laughed. "Can't fight back now that her boyfriend isn't here to save her!"

"Chase is _not _my boyfriend!" I yelled.

"Ooh, Napier's getting all cry-baby because she doesn't have her boyfriend here anymore."

I quickly got to my feet, scraping my joggers off as I glared ahead at the three laughing hyenas.

My head started reeling, the humming getting louder and louder. Kayley kept on taunting me, along with her two accomplices, but I felt no pain when they poked me or tried to push me to ground again. I felt no pain on my body. All of my pain was surging inside of me instead, through every inch. My mind kept on racking. Dad's words were yelling inside my head.

_"__I know you can show people not to mess with you. I know there's a fighter in you, Shaylee, just like me. Don't let that stupid bitch ruin everything."_

_"__Whenever you come face to face with someone, just remember you're my daughter, no one else's."_

"Shut up. Shut up! _SHUT UP_!" I screamed at her.

I screamed so loudly and harshly that she did actually shut up. I slowly walked up to her, bearing my anger-filled eyes into her soul. People around started watching the action. Oh, were they about to see a show.

I couldn't control myself anymore. My anger poured into my hands and with them I violently grabbed Kayley by her collar and threw her against the brick wall, making her groan. I didn't realise my own strength as Kayley struggled in my grasp, failing miserably to escape. Still holding her, I looked back at Frankie and Jasmine, who nervously backed off. A huge crowd of kids gathered around to watch Kayley suffer, because let's face it, that's what they wanted to see. Nobody liked the little bitch.

I gritted my teeth and was still panting hard as I held her against the wall by her collar. Although my anger was high, I also felt a sense of unusual pride, knowing the strength I had and that I was in full control of the little cunt. Red was everywhere as I continued to be in full control, making Kayley whimper in my grasp.

"Have fun doing that, did you?" I questioned her, my words spitting in her face. "Have fun pushing me to the ground, did you?"

"Let me go, Napier, you freak!" she cried.

"I am _not _a freak! I'm sick of you! Why'd you pick on me, huh?" She couldn't answer that, so instead she just gasped for air. "_I'm_ stupid?" I continued. "Who's the stupid one now?"

My head was getting more and more worked up.

It took a while for a teacher to come running over. Unfortunately for me, it was Mr. Boyd, the principal.

"Shaylee Napier!" he yelled.

I groaned loudly, refusing to put Kayley down. "But Sir…" I shouted.

"Put her down, this minute!" he snapped.

I let out a shrill scream as I let her go. She fell to her knees, coughing loudly. Frankie and Jasmine immediately ran to her aid, as did many other kids. Most of them backed away as I glared at them like I was some sort of demon. Panting fast, I looked back at Kayley, who had started crying on Jasmine's shoulder. Pathetic.

Mr. Boyd then tried to calm me down by touching my shoulders, but that only made it worse.

"_Don't touch me_!" I roared.

I put my hands to my head as I glanced down at my torn apart picture on the floor. I burst into tears as I fell to my knees, screaming, attempting to block out the raging noise in my head. Many kids tried to help me up but I screamed at all of them.

"Right, everyone back inside right now!" Mr. Boyd ordered. "Back to class. Leave her alone." I then looked up to find him walking over to a whimpering Kayley, who he helped up. "Take her to my office," he told Frankie and Jasmine. "I'll inform Mr. Truman what's happened."

"Yes, Mr. Boyd," they said in unison.

I furiously watched them walking away with their arms around Kayley's shoulders, enraged that they'd got away with it.

No, _no_. _Don't let her get away with it, Shaylee._

I grabbed a ripped piece of my drawing and leaped to my feet. I attempted to run after them, but Mr. Boyd held me back.

"_I hate you, Kayley Lyons_!" I screamed, fighting to get past Mr. Boyd's grasp.

"Shaylee!" he shouted. "To my office right now!"

I grunted loudly. "Let _go _of me!"

"Office! Now! You can explain yourself there!"

"Oh I'll give you an explanation, alright!" I shouted at him.

I was marched to his office, where Kayley and the others were waiting, too. They looked terrified of me, so they should. Kayley's eyes were red from crying. I slumped down in the chair next to them, putting my head in my hands, breathing in and out, attempting to calm myself down. Mr. Boyd sat down at his desk.

"Shaylee, look up please," he demanded.

"No," I retorted, clutching onto my head.

"Look up."

"No! I'm calming myself down, Mr. Boyd!"

I took several deep breaths has the voices went quieter, and the humming inside my head went softer. I angrily wiped my tears away as I finally looked up at Mr. Boyd, before turning my head away from all of them. Looking at their faces would only make it worse.

"Now, girls," he said, trying to sound calmer. "Is this...Shaylee, look at me, please." I reluctantly looked at him, giving him that uncomfortable stare. "Is this really a good way to start the year?"

"She started it," I muttered.

"Quiet," he snapped. "I don't care who started it. You need to realise, Miss Napier, your behaviour was totally unacceptable."

"So was hers," I retorted.

"Oh, shut up, Shaylee," Jasmine said.

"No, I won't," I answered back. "You guys were the ones who made me angry. It was _their _fault, Mr. Boyd. If they had leaven me be then I wouldn't have got worked up, but they pushed me to do it."

"Is this true, Kayley?" Mr. Boyd asked.

"No, Sir," Kayley said, pretending to be all sweetness and light.

"She's a liar!" I yelled.

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are! Sir, trust me, yeah? They came over and started picking on me and they tore up my picture." I pulled out a creased up bit of paper from my pocket. "Look!" I cried, lifting it up. "Didn't you see the paper on the floor? Kayley did that! That's why I got angry."

Kayley was now looking down at her hands. Mr. Boyd looked at me, curiously.

"Is this true?" he asked Kayley.

"Tell him the truth, Kayley," I taunted.

I never let dad's advice leave my head. I had to prove I was no longer the victim. To show her true colours. That's what dad did day in and day out: showed people's true colours. I wasn't going to let her get away with it anymore. I wasn't weak, I had just proven it, that I could be in control and that I could intimidate people. I couldn't wait to tell dad when I got home. He always taught me to defend myself in any way possible.

I stared at Kayley, with my arms folded.

"Yes," she mumbled. "Yeah, it's true."

"See?" I said, triumphantly.

"Mind your attitude, Miss Napier," Mr. Boyd said, glaring at me. "Kayley, you know we don't tolerate behaviour like that. We all like to be friendly with each other here and it upsets me we have to deal with bullying like this."

"I wasn't bullying her," Kayley said, darting her head up at him. "I just wanted to see her picture, and she wouldn't let me."

"Sometimes, Kayley, people like to keep things private…"

"I know, but…"

"Let me finish. There was no need for that, now was there?" Kayley shook her head, and looked down at her lap, embarrassed.

Mr. Boyd was talking to her like a three year old, being so calm and nice, yet he was being all snappy with me. I told you there was favouritism in that school. Every time Kayley and I had gotten into a fight, which was _always _her fault, she was always the one who was the poor innocent victim and I was the horrible monster. But before that day, I couldn't be bothered defending myself because I was so used to being punished. I wasn't letting that happen this time.

Mr. Boyd then addressed Jasmine and Frankie. "And the same applies for you two," he said. "I don't want to her anymore of this nonsense with bullying. I'm tired of having to deal with it. I'm gravelly disappointed in all three of you, especially on the third day back of your final year. It's not good enough. If I hear anymore of it, I'll be ringing your parents, is that clear?"

They all nodded vigorously.

I was now ginning, knowing I had achieved showcasing their true pitiful selves. My head had almost completely calmed now. Mr. Boyd then addressed me, who still had my arms folded and not giving a care in the world.

"And as for you, Shaylee," he said, "I don't want to see anymore of that disgusting behaviour in my school, you understand?"

Dad's personality was now starting to come out of me. "Yeah, that's fair enough," I replied, still grinning. "As long as they don't come near me. You have to understand sir, I'm only like that when someone pushes me to be like that. They did that. Not me. Besides, sir, you _know _I have little anger problems, don't you? So you can't exactly stop it, can you?"

"I can't, but I can tell you to leave each other alone."

"That's great! That's _exactly _what I want!"

Mr. Boyd sighed as he gave up on the argument. "Okay, off you go, back to your class. All four of you will receive detention after school with me."

I looked at him in disgust. "But sir!"

"Don't argue with me, Shaylee! You've all done things wrong today and therefore is only fair if you all receive detention."

He sent us away after that. Usually after a meeting in the principal's office, I would come out feeling miserable, but this time, I felt happy. Nothing else. Just simply happy. I smirked at the three of them as we continued our lesson in class, to which they responded by scowling at me.

There were no more giggles and pointing in class from them anymore. In fact, Kayley, Frankie and Jasmine didn't torment me at all after that day. I felt so proud of myself, knowing that I made them scared of me so they would leave me alone. After my lash out that day, many more kids stayed well away from me. That was how I liked it. Kayley looked so pathetic when she walked past me in the corridor, looking so weak and wretched.

I was no longer a victim.

When I told dad that afternoon, he was unbelievably proud. He didn't care that I nearly hit a girl, he didn't care I got a detention and I was late coming home from school. He simply cared about the fact I'd defended myself and shown their true colours, even if I _was _showing threatening behaviour and my behavioural problems were becoming clearer. I hadn't seen him so happy in a long time.

"Ah-ha! _That's _my girl!" he exclaimed, as he roughly hugged me from around the back. "Show that Kayley a piece of your mind, did ya?!"

"I certainly did!" I said, proudly. "It wasn't _my _fault though, I said that to Mr. Boyd and he finally saw what a bully she really is. She pushed me to it, I got _so _angry."

"Ahh, it's okay, princess!" Dad said. "We _know _you have a little problem with anger. She should have known that by now, shouldn't she? Silly girl. Shouldn't mess with my Shaylee."

Just for that, dad went and stole $200 for me the next afternoon. I spent it on new clothes, buying this super awesome purple jacket that looked a bit like dad's large coat, and also some boots, something mom never let me have. I wore that jacket all the time. It made some girls in school actually talk to me, just so they could know where to buy it from. It almost became a crime for me _not _to wear it.

The year school year continued like any other typical year, except now I didn't fight, because Kayley left me alone after that day. Mr. Truman actually didn't turn out to be that bad. He actually understood my ADHD, obviously aware I had it. He didn't shout at me like Miss Woodville did, he actually took his time to help me, even if I was completely uninterested.

Lunchtimes and break times were just not the same without Chase. I dreadfully missed our conversations and sharing our masterpieces of art. I often called him on dad's cell phone when he gave me the chance, and we still maintained a strong friendship. Dad finally let me go round to his house one night, now he finally knew he could trust me going out by myself. Mrs. Delancey, Chase's mom, dyed my hair that night, while the rest of the time me and Chase were glued to this crime video game, which Chase taught me how to play. I _so _wanted an Xbox after that day but wouldn't let me. He said if I wanted to experience real crime, to view it through a video game wasn't as thrilling as it is in real life.

That final art project Chase had told me about was actually pretty decent, like he said. We had four whole weeks to complete it, and I finished it within the first week because I couldn't put it down. Even dad was interested in it, letting me paint it every night after he came home when we watched an action movie together.

Although I missed Chase, my final year at Little Hill Elementary actually wasn't that bad. Well, there was the day when I walked in with my new black hair, which I got a hammering for by Mr. Boyd, saying it's totally against the rules. Some kids laughed at me but of course I couldn't give a damn. But what were they going to do? Tie me to a chair and drain the dye out of my hair? No. Dad ignored all the reports saying it was prohibited anyway. I guess I enjoyed my final year because no one bothered me after that day I lashed out in front of everyone, as a lot of kids were too scared to talk to me. Kayley tried to provoke me now and then but I tended to laugh it off, just like dad did.

Speaking of dad, he never did get round to dyeing his hair green, which I was actually kind of disappointed by. In his own words, he said all good things come to those who wait. He asked me to draw him new Joker card designs all the time, which I did, and he was very happy with all of them. Sometimes he took the smaller version with him when he went out doing his thing.

On my 11th birthday that April, dad took me out to the City to visit a travelling circus. I didn't understand how he could afford it, but that didn't bother me. Despite the fact it was April, he still went dressed up in thick clothing, wearing a baseball cap and covering his face. I knew why, it was because he was still paranoid he was going to be identified by the police. The show itself was okay, only entertaining me when there was an explosion or when an acrobat nearly tripped an injured themselves. Things like that always cracked me up.

But then the clown sequence was about to come up, and that's when dad grabbed my arm.

"Come on, Shaylee, we're going," he said, standing up.

I didn't budge from my seat. "What? Dad, why are we going?"

"Because I'm not watching this bit."

"Why not?"

"Shaylee, come on, we're leaving. _Now_."

He glanced at the stage with a frightened look. That was enough for me to move. Grabbing my bag I took his hand and he dragged me through the theatre, before barging through the exit door. He looked quite flustered all the way home. I was shocked when he decided to get a bus back to the town, and when we did, he made us sit right at the back and made me cuddle up to him, while he covered my face.

That evening, while I was finishing off my birthday cake, I asked, "Dad, why _did _we have to rush out of the circus?"

Dad sighed as he put down his own plate. "Clowns, honey. I don't like them. Not one bit."

I widened my eyes at him. "You're scared of clowns?" I asked, in shock.

He looked down, embarrassed. "Yes, yes _I am_."

"I thought you weren't scared of anything."

"My mother took me to the circus as a child and I screamed the place down when I saw a clown. When my father found out, he laughed in my face, just like the clown had. He reminded me very much of the horror I'd seen onstage. He tells me I need to be a man, to grow up. I tell ya, Shaylee, it's _not nice_."

I decided to say no more about it.

It took a while for me to get used to not having mom around. I guess, in a way, it helped, because I didn't have to argue with anybody and I didn't get angry all the time. Dad was smoking more than ever now, which I begged him to stop, but he failed miserably. He even started smoking in the flat. I hated it when dad was stressed, so I didn't dare try and make him angry. I'm not that stupid.

The end of my elementary school days came round quicker than I ever imagined. I felt very peculiar when we finished. All the other kids had their parents supporting them in the leaver's assembly, but my dad didn't come. Not because he didn't care, but because I didn't want him to come. I didn't think of him as embarrassing, but, the thing is, he appeared to be turning crazier as the days rolled by. I won't go into detail, but, one thing I should say is, he came home later and later. I was totally unaware what he was doing, but he came home and most of the time, he was still clutching onto a gun or a knife. It was like he couldn't let go.

Summer vacation and dad let me go and hang out with Chase in the town shopping centre. He was twelve now, but he looked much older than that. I still looked about nine years old, even though I was eleven. Luckily, Chase said he just wanted me and him to hang out, not letting his new friends come out, too.

About halfway through the summer break, we hung out one day in the late afternoon. Chase's mom was out working late hours, and dad was away doing something or other. We took a break, sitting on a wall near the small little shops not far from our flat.

"So what's middle school school like?" I asked him.

"It's okay I suppose," he replied. "I've met some cool people. I have quite a few friends. All of them boys, though. All the girls there are totally boring."

"Oh, great," I said. "Looks like I'll have to hang out with boys only then."

Chase laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure my pals will love you."

"Probably not."

"Hey, if I like you then they will. You're the coolest girl I've ever met."

"Aw, thanks, Chase."

"So how's things with your dad?"

"Great, great. He's started smoking again though, I hate it. He took me to the circus for my birthday and I found out he's afraid of clowns."

"_Really_? Your _dad_?"

"I know, right? Clowns aren't scary."

"You don't find anything scary, though."

"I'm finding going to middle school pretty scary."

"Ah, you'll cope fine. It's not even that bad when you get used to it. So your dad's letting you come to Gotham Middle School?"

"Yeah, because he knows how much I hated Little Hill, he said he would never let me go to their high school. He said he wants me to go to the City more, anyway."

"Maybe we could meet at the bus station every morning and sit together on the bus? I have no one, so it'd be nice to…"

"Okay!"

Chase chuckled. "Oh good." He touched my hair. "Still can't believe my mom dyed your hair for you."

"Yeah, I'm so happy she did. I love it so much."

"I know. You suit black hair better. We look like we could be related."

We both shared as a laugh as we spent another hour deep in conversation. I was so grateful to have a friend like him. Someone who didn't care about the way I dressed, or how I acted. He was just there for _me_. I told him about how I was coping with mom. Sitting on a wall opposite the place where she was shot flooded back everything. Dad had told me Harleen was sentenced in Arkham for nine years. Really? Nine years? She downright murdered someone! And not just anyone, a mother! And someone who was supposed to be her friend…

It got to a point when Chase's cell phone bleeped with a text message.

"Ooh, better get this," he said, getting his phone out.

"You're so lucky you have a phone," I told him.

"Yeah," he said, flipping his phone open. "It's my mom's old one." He read his message and a disappointed look came upon his face.

"What is it? Who's messaged you?" I asked.

"My mom. She wants me home. Suppose I better get back."

"Oh. Okay," I answered, sadly.

"You okay getting home?"

"Yeah, it's only down there."

"Okay, well, see you soon?"

"Totally."

"Okay, tiger."

He then did something he'd never done before. He pulled me into a hug before quickly moving away again. I was so stunned I that I couldn't say goodbye to him as he walked away.

Dad wasn't home when I arrived back at the flat so I flipped on the TV whilst I tried out mom's old makeup on her dressing table. I always used the same red and pinks, so I rummaged through the doors to see if I could find anything more interesting. Right at the very bottom, I found a single black lipstick, which I stared at in awe for a few moments. I drew it on my lips, drawing my black hair behind my ear. I smiled at myself as I actually thought it suited me. I hid that lipstick in my clothes drawer with my socks, keeping it safe.

The rest of the summer vacation went too quickly. I spent most of it drawing new designs and ideas, as well as accessorising myself. Dad promised me on my next birthday I could get my ears pierced, another thing that mom forbid me to do. Dad also stole me the money to get new things for starting GMS. I chose very carefully, buying myself a cute purple handbag instead of a backpack, a series of thick ink pens and a collection of notepads.

Then the day finally came around. Dad woke me up especially early, knocking on my door and creaking it open, slowly.

"Oh _Shay-lee_!" he called in a silly voice.

I groaned and struggled to open my eyes.

"Is it morning _already_?" I sighed.

"Certainly is. Come _on_. It's your first day of middle school!"

I didn't want to look like a scruff for my first day, so I chose my purple jacket, with my black and white legging and bat-patterned jumper, complete with my large sneakers. I spent half an hour doing my makeup with mom's things, and also putting up my dyed black hair in a ponytail, to look somewhat intelligent. My eyelashes looked like spiders' legs with amount of mascara I used. I used all the stuff: conditioner, eyeliner, eye shadow and of course that black lipstick. I gathered my stuff and revealed myself to dad in the kitchen, who was busy preparing himself, putting a knife in his pocket.

"I'm ready," I said, montone.

Dad wheeled around. "Aw, Shaylee," he whispered, walking over to me. "Well don't you look gorgeous? Simply adorable." He flicked my nose, making me giggle. "So grown up. Very gothic, aren't you?"

"Who wants to be like everyone else?" I said.

"Too right, sweetie," Dad agreed. "I can't believe my _little girl_ is goin' to middle school."

"I can't believe it, either."

Dad glanced up at the clock. "Ooh, crap, you better go," he said. "Gotta bus to catch, remember?"

I looked up at the clock, too. I gasped and quickly dashed into the corridor.

"Bye, dad!" I called as I opened the front door.

"Ah-da-da-da….Shaylee?" Dad said.

I held the door open. "Yes?"

"Doesn't your old man get a hug first?" I sighed and rushed into a hug. He held me close. "And remember," he said, importantly, stroking my hair. "Don't let anyone get the better of you. Remember you're a big tough little girl, hmm?"

"Of course, dad."

"Very good. Now, go on."

He lightly kissed my forehead and I dashed out the road.

Chase kept his promise and was waiting for me at the bus stop. He was waiting there with a boy I didn't recognise, but that didn't phase me. I got a lot of stares as I walked over to Chase, but I didn't care.

"Hi, Chase," I greeted, giving a little wave.

"Oh, hi, Shaylee!" Chase said, enthusiastically, giving me a high five. "How are ya?"

"Good, good. Bit nervous, but…"

"Ah, don't be." Chase then looked at the other boy, who was looking at me, interestingly. "Oh, uh, Shaylee, this is Tom. Tom, Shaylee…the girl I told you about."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"And you," Tom said, smiling at me. He was creepily examining me from head to toe.

The yellow school bus soon arrived and we sat right at the front. I sat near the window, and Chase at right next to me, like he promised. The journey takes around 35 minutes and when we arrived, Chase immediately showed me around the gigantic school. It was like entering another world, with the endless corridors and numerious classes. There were pictures dotted around everywhere, displaying the school's achievements. Me and Chase got some weird looks walking down the corridor, to which I responded by waving and winking at the boys. And of course I spotted the cliques straight away: the nerds, the skater people, the goofy dorks, the jocks and the emos to name a few. Chase and Tom showed me to the assembly hall, as that's where I needed to be, but he had to go straight to class, leaving me feel a little awkward.

"Here we are," he said, as we reached the hall. "All first years have to come here to know their teachers and stuff like that. They'll tell you everything."

"Okay, well, thanks Chase, Tom," I said.

"That's okay. At break times, we hang around the little corner near the science labs. They're easy to find. Come find us."

"Okay, sure."

"See you later then."

"See ya."

So, the day went on like any other first day. I was given a timetable for the year, like every other kid and we were introduced to the principal, this time a woman called Mrs. Quaid. She seemed okay at a first glance, someone I could easily take on. Most of the kids seemed that way, too.

My very first class was Religious Studies at 9am. But it gets worse. I eventually found my way to the classroom and who do I see when I walk in? Kayley Lyons. Sitting there at the front with a huge grin on her face. I wanted to kill myself.

Kayley turned out to be in a lot of my classes, as we had the same 'level of ability', which wasn't a lot. Little Hill had informed GMS about my behavioural problems, and so they kept an annoyingly close eye on me throughout the year. Kayley was highly irritating as always, showing off to all the boys in every class, making my stomach turn.

The school appeared to be pretty decent, easy to follow around and it seemed to be successful. Even to me it seemed like it wouldn't be a hell hole. The food wasn't even that bad, either, with the cafeteria offering all sorts of things every day, satisfying me, who didn't always eat three meals a day.

On my first lunchtime, it didn't take me long to find Chase in the exact place he'd told me. I approached them, nervously clinging onto my bag. They were all male, all appearing to be the kind of boys who were class clowns and serious rebels.

Chase spotted me walking towards them, and greeted me with a little wave.

"Shaylee!" he called.

All the other boys darted their heads in my direction, some of them opening their eyes, looking highly impressed, making me more confident.

"Hi," I said, quietly.

"Guys, this is Shaylee, the girl I told you about?" Chase said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Wow, dude, is she really younger than us?" one guy asked.

"Yeah she is," Tom said. "She's eleven."

I nodded in reassurance. Some of them started to laugh.

"Wow, you look way older," another guy said, circling around me, eyeing me like I was his new possession. I felt my heart beating.

"I always thought I looked like a baby," I said.

They all started to laugh again. "Nah, you look older," the guy insisted.

"That's Alex," Chase said, giving him a little push. "He's a nutter. Just take no notice of him."

I giggled. "Hi, Alex."

"And you already know Tom, he's from the town, like us," Chase continued. He then pointed to a guy with glasses. "That's Matty…and this is Jason…" he finally pointed to the only black guy in the group, "and this is Chris."

"Hi, guys," I said, smirking. I was starting to get interested. To took a large bite from my sandwich.

"So you're from the town?" Chris asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Shit hole," Tom laughed.

We laughed with him.

"Yeah, full of pricks," Chase said, leaning against the wall.

"Not _everyone's _a prick," I said. I widened my eyes. I couldn't believe I'd just sworn. But dad wasn't there, so it didn't matter.

"Yeah, they are, Shaylee," Chase said, making everyone crack up again. "It's much better here in the City."

"I _so _wanna live here," I explained. "I hate living in Gotham Town."

"This place has its faults, too," said Jason. "Full of assholes."

"Yeah," I sighed.

"So what makes you wanna hang around with a load of boys, Shaylee?" Alex asked, giving me a weird, almost perverted look again.

"It's less drama," I said. "Most girls annoy the hell out of me. They're all so annoying. I just live with my dad, so you know, I'm used to just men."

"Why? Where's ya mom?" Matty asked.

I paused. "She's dead."

They stared at Matty, Chase hitting him on the head.

"I told you, Matty!" he hissed. "I told you she don't have a mom, didn't I? I told you _not _bring it up."

"Matty always making things awkward," Tom explained.

"It's okay, you know," I said.

It was clear to see I'd found my group of friends just on the first day. Yeah, they were all boys, and yeah they were all a year older, but, it didn't matter. They all had different personalities and even though they were class clowns, they didn't make fun of me because I was a girl. Chase told them to shut up if they did. I was smarter than most of them, as was Chase. Alex was the one always talking about girls, which was quite creepy considering he was only twelve. Well, they all turned thirteen during the year anyway, Alex turning thirteen first. Chris was into break dancing, even showing me a few tricks. Matty was the awkward dweeb who we just tolerated because he had no other friends, but I still got on with him great. Jason was the next most intelligent after Chase, who when he could be bothered, was really smart at science. As for Tom, well he was just always getting into trouble. I could guess he'd be the first one out of all of us to get suspended. I didn't make many friends from my own year because none of them bothered with me.

The only girl I seemed to get along with was a girl called Chelsea Archer. She had ADHD, like me, so that's one way we could connect. I sat next to her in all the classes we were in, cracking me up when she argued with the teachers. Chelsea was useless at art, though, constantly copying me in class. She was great, but she was really someone who could get me through class.

My real friends were the gang of boys.

They made me feel so much more comfortable in my first year, they actually made me look forward to going to school. The boys were really nice to me and made me feel welcome, but I still remained the closest to Chase. Chase and I still shared our art techniques, which some of the guys made fun of him, calling him a nerd, but I soon dealt with them. Like I said, I wasn't a girl to be crossed. I wasn't a victim anymore.

I proved that one day, just before the Christmas holidays. It was lunchtime and we were all hanging outside. Alex had just turned thirteen, and so he was the self-appointed 'leader' of our gang. We were watching some of the bully jocks playing soccer, when one of them carelessly kicked the ball in our direction, until it hit my right in my face. Some of the boys spluttered into giggles when it happened, but Chase hugged me.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" he asked.

"No, I'm not!" I cried.

The ball had hit me right in the face, but it triggered my mind racking. It started to get louder, my anger quickly erupting.

Chase stormed over to the guy who had kicked the ball, with me closely behind, clutching my injured face.

"Oi!" Chase yelled. "Watch what you're doing, idiot!"

"It was an accident, little boy!" the jock yelled back, with his friends laughing behind him.

"That could have hit my fucking eyes out!" I yelled at him.

"Ooh, sorry, little girl, my bad!"

He started laughing again, making my blood boil.

"Little girl? Who do you think you're talking to, you disrespectful cunt?!" I was now right up to him, and he continued to laugh into my face, below him. The language you learn in high school was unbelievable. "You think it's funny, do you?" My voice was now turning soft and dangerous, just like dad's when he was angry.

"Relax, little kid, it was an accident!" he shouted.

"I don't care if it was! It messed with my head!"

"Messed with your head?" he laughed. "Watch out for this one, guys, she's a little badass!"

That's when it happened. The anger exploded. He was a big guy, much older and taller, so I couldn't pin him down, so instead, I slapped him hard across the face. And I mean, very hard. That startled him, as it nearly knocked him over completely. I heard the boys cheering behind me, and I looked back on them, grinning.

"Whoa, what the _fuck_?" the jock cried, holding his face. "Little shit!"

He raised his hand but Chase grabbed it. I'd completely forgotten he was still beside me.

"You gonna hit a girl?" Chase asked. He reminded me of dad the way he threatened people. "Gonna be the big man and hit a younger kid?"

Chase then made my head calmer, as he kicked the guy in the balls, making me fall about laughing. I instantly felt better. I laughed so hard up until the point it almost sounded insane.

Chase and I high-fived the other guys as we joined them again. We were all laughing hysterically.

"What a muppet!" Jason laughed.

"That was awesome, Shaylee," Alex said, attempting to put his arm around me.

"Get off me, shitface," I laughed at him. "And yeah, I know. I wasn't just gonna stand here and let him laugh at me and just not say sorry."

"He never said sorry," Matty said, making us all groan.

"I don't care anymore," I said.

"Come on, guys, let's go science lab," Alex said, leading us all around the corner. "Tired of watching those wannabe badasses."

I told dad about the little incident when I got home, and he couldn't stop laughing.

"Well, you certainly taught him a lesson, didn't ya, honey?!" he cried.

"You said not to let anyone get the better of me, so I didn't," I replied.

Dad stroked my cheek, proudly. "And that's what makes a strong girl," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Those guys are teaching you a thing or two, aren't they, huh?"

"Yeah, they're awesome."

"They certainly _sound _it, sweetie."

Dad and I both burst into beautiful laughter.

My first year at Gotham Middle School was surprisingly enjoyable, since I found my group of friends and remained close to Chase. Dad would allow me to hang around with them on weekends, but he didn't let me bring them round to our flat. When I turned twelve, we all had a big celebration in the park, where Chris tried to show me dance routine and Chase painted a beautiful painting for me. Dad took me out again, but this time we went to visit Larry at the tavern. We didn't stay though, he cooked us a meal and we left. It was a wonderful birthday. For once in my crazy life, I actually was so happy. I was happy in school, happy with dad and even happy with my education, even if I had argue with the teachers and struggle to concentrate, but again, it wasn't my fault. It was the ADHD.

Even though we were what the older generation would consider the "bad kids", we still had a strong friendship. They would always look out for, as I did for them. We remained in contact during the next summer vacation, but which time they had all become teenagers and I had, like I said, was now twelve years old. Chase still had a good relationship with his mom, even though she didn't approve of our friends. My dad didn't care, though. He just wanted me to be happy, and I think he was overjoyed seeing me happy, for once in my life full of madness. We continued having campfire nights, where he would often talk about Harleen. Her various attempts to escape from Arkham had been all over the news, making dad seem slightly worried almost.

During that summer break, dad had collected a whole new range of guns. He said he got them from Larry, but I didn't believe it. I presumed he made a deal with someone to get those. The little handgun I'd used when I was eight was disposed of, and dad replaced it with a larger one. He let me take one on some occasions, but that was only when I went out by myself. Dad also finally dyed his hair green, which didn't suit him at all, to be honest. Especially with his tanned skin tone and his brown eyes. But he seemed to very pleased with it, as he used a comb more often, and he also never failed take my Joker card designs out with him, the one with the laughing devil being his favourite.

I'd never been so excited to start a new year at school in my life, and my second year at GMS started out very well. I was put in the top class for art, unfortunately being separated from Chelsea, but at least I didn't get distracted from my drawings as much. Now all the guys were thirteen going on fourteen, of course they wouldn't shut up about girls they thought had a nice ass. I remember feeling sick when Jason said he thought Kayley Lyons was hot. Chase was very quiet about it, though, he only ever seemed to compliment me. The guys were now in their final year before they moved onto higher education in Gotham High School.

I guess I did start to develop a little crush on Chase.

Alex was the first guy in the gang who started smoking, and so all of them started too. Chase was the last one to try, as he was scared about what his mom would say. I desperately tried to stay away, but it got to the point where they started taking the piss out of me for not trying, and so I eventually tried one to shut them up. That was the end of April, when I had just turned thirteen, near the end of the school year itself. I know, I know, every kid who starts smoking say they'll just have one little cigarette, and before you know it, they're addicted. I didn't dare tell dad I'd started smoking. I had to be sneaky when smoking in the flat, taking one outside when I needed to relax. They were especially good after I'd just lashed out at somebody, to help me and my mind relax until the noises and sounds vanished.

Unfortunately, my happiness at Gotham Middle School wouldn't last.

It all happened in my final year of middle school, when I was thirteen, nearly fourteen and it was the end of March. All of my friends (the group of boys) had moved onto Gotham High now, so I had a rotten year without them. It just wasn't the same. I'd been getting into much bigger trouble too, and gave some sort of reputation in my year. I was lucky I had Chelsea, though, who I became really close to. She always entertained me with her delightful stories of her rich family. I stayed in contact with all the boys, however, meeting them regularly during the week when we were all free, so it wasn't like I'd never seen them ever again.

The moment of pure madness, that made my school life come crashing down, happened during one lunch break, and I had a detention for 'being disrespectful towards staff', when I argued with my chemistry teacher the day before. I had to write out lines in the science lab, but instead I took the opportunity to doodle.

Turns out this very science lab was the one where Kayley Lyons and her new friends hung around at lunchtimes, which I was totally unaware of. Lunchtime had just began, and I has drawn a thousand swirls on the page already when Kayley came in with her friends. I groaned under my breath when I saw her crying like wimp again. Her two friends sat her down and one slowly rubbed her arm, soothingly.

"Come on, tell us what's up, Kayley," one of them said.

"Yeah, calm down, and tell us what's happened."

I wasn't interested in what Kayley Lyons was whinging about, so I carried on with my patterns, however, I carried on listening to her pathetic cries. They seemed to be totally oblivious that I was in the room, but thankfully, they had shut the door behind them when they came in.

"I just miss him _so much_," Kayley whimpered, almost sounding like she was faking her crying.

"We know, we know, babe," one of her friends said.

"But I just keep _hearing _him…it's like he's still talking to me."

I shot my head up, but they still didn't notice me.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Kayley sniffled, "since…since he died…I've been hearing his voice inside my head, and I think I can see him at night."

I stared at her, curiously. What did she mean 'she could hear his voice inside her head'? What, like I could hear voices inside mine? Funny that. I actually _have a reason_ to hear voices, but I have a _disorder_. Kayley was completely normal. She didn't know what it was like, to _actually hear voice_. I felt a gush of anger, inspecting her face carefully. I noticed that there were hardly any tears coming out of eyes.

"Aw, Kayley, it's because he's still with you," one of her friends said, putting her arm around her. Kayley pretended to cry into her hands.

"But…but…it's just haunting me," Kayley whined.

I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Haunting you?" I said.

They darted their heads towards me, who was trying to remain calm, but I was gripping onto my pen.

"Her grandpa died this weekend," one of her friends explained, talking to me like I was an idiot.

"Oh, right," I said, plainly. "And…and you say you can _hear him_, right?"

Kayley nodded at me. I slammed my pen down on the desk and put my hands against my head, before glaring at the three of them. I tried to make myself laugh so I didn't start shouting, biting onto my tongue.

"It's not funny, you know," the other friend snapped at me.

"Oh I know, I know…" I answered. "No it's not. I'm sorry about your grandpa, Kayley. I never knew mine. Apparently was a terrible man, anyway, but I'm sure yours was a great man. I can hear my mom, sometimes you know. But that's when I get angry. You know? But _can _hear her, because, well, I can _actually _hear voices…"

"You calling me a liar?" Kayley asked.

"Oh no, no. Tell me, what is your grandfather saying to you exactly, hmm?" That struck Kayley. She mumbled but no words came out. That's because she couldn't answer. Gotcha. "You see, I can remember _everything _my mom says to me inside my head. She says, 'Shaylee, did you remember to do your homework?' 'Shaylee, I'm going to find your father!' 'Shaylee, your father is not the hero you think he is, you know!' Thing is, Kayley, I have this problem…which I have actually been diagnosed with…and when I get…._emotional_…I can hear 'em. But I can remember what they're saying. So, can you _actually _hear your grandpa talking?"

"Yes!"

"And what's he saying, then?"

"He's saying…uh…"

"Hmm?"

"Oh, just leave her alone and get some respect!" one of her friends yelled at me.

"What respect for someone who's lying about hearing voices when some people _actually can _and suffer badly from it? I don't think so."

"You're such a twat!" Kayley shouted.

"Maybe, but at least I don't lie about hearing voices."

I started to feel my blood boil as Kayley marched over to me, getting right into my face. I tried to show no expression in my face, as much as I wanted to beat the shit out of her right then.

"My grandpa fucking dies and you call me a liar?!" she yelled in my face.

"Have I disrespected your grandpa at all? No. I've simply said I don't believe you can hear voices. This is coming from someone _who can_. It's nothing to lie about and get attention from! It's serious! It's a terrible illness that people can't escape!"

"How do we know _you're _not lying then, Shaylee?"

I suddenly punched her right in the face with a loud scream, making Kayley fumble backwards and fall on her back. Her head banged against the front desk. She struggled to her knees, starting to whimper again. Her two friends backed away, looking totally startled. I'd never felt so angry in all my life.

"You two can fuck off!" I screamed at them.

I didn't have to tell them twice. They rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind them. How cruel of them to leave their friend at the mercy of me, whose anger was twinkling in my eyes. I grabbed Kayley by her collar like I had done in elementary school, and pinned her against the wooden desk, glaring at the lying little attention seeker.

My head was wailing, so many voices screaming what I should do to her. Some even told me to kill her, but…I couldn't. I heard mom and dad yelling at each other, making me scrunch my eyes to block it out. I was showing Kayley how it _really _felt to have voices.

"Shut up!" I shouted.

"I…I didn't say anything…" Kayley cried.

"_You _can shut up too!" I screamed, spitting her face. I didn't care if I was caught. I couldn't have controlled it anyway. My mind was in control, now. Nothing else.

"What?"

"Shush, shush, shush…" I was beginning to sound like dad. "You don't know…what it's like….to have _voices_. _Real ones_. That…ahhh…that tell you what to do! They're the most evil thing in the world…there to make your life a misery, Kayley. I _hate _liars and people who pretend to have it when they don't." I took a deep breath. "Schizophrenia isn't funny. So _don't you dare pretend you have it when you don't_."

"What? Have what…?"

"Shut up! Quiet down, now…"

Then I glanced at the wooden desk, next to Kayley's terrified face, with her tears rolling. Not so much the big bully now, was she?

Then I remembered I had dad's lighter in my pocket, that I had snuck in.

_Go on, Shaylee. You know how much you adore pretty fires._

Dad's evil smirk appeared on my lips as my mind took over me more than ever.


	10. Let Loose

_**NOTE: Twisted fluff coming up! Also**** contains strong language, mental distress, violence and threat. Because you know, that's how Shaylee rolls.**_

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Let Loose**

Kayley remained gasping in my clutch as I continued to grin at her. Tears were beginning to roll down her face.

_You love fire, Shaylee_.

For once, the voices actually spoke the truth.

The anger was still boiling inside of me, higher than it ever had been in my life. My brain was banging and I could feel tears coming out from my own eyes. My tears were different to Kayley's. Mine were actually filled with emotion and pain, hers were nothing but fakery, which just made my skin crawl even more.

It began to take control of me. It was turning me into a monster.

I suddenly grabbed Kayley by her long, blonde hair, forcefully turning her around and I violently slammed her head on the desk with an almighty thump. Kayley screamed in my grasp, but I was soon about to overpower her.

"_Tell me what he's saying_!" I screamed. "_Tell me_!"

"Let _go _of me!" she whimpered like a damsel.

"_No_!"

I scrunched my eyes closed and carefully tried to listen to what my voices were yelling at me.

_You can take her on. You can start a fire, Shaylee. Don't let her get away with it._

"Let me go, Shaylee, please!" Kayley cried.

Surprisingly, I did so, throwing her to the ground where she fell on her front. She whimpered into the floor, her golden curls covering her face. She gently pushed it back over her ear, sniffling and wiping her tears, trembling. Whilst she was laying helpless on the floor, I put my hands on my head and tried to take deep breaths. Nothing worked because dad wasn't there to calm me, and he was the _only _person who could. Not even Chase could control my anger.

That voice lingered in my head.

_Fire_.

I patted my jean pocket, keeping my other hand clutching my head. I dug into it, and twiddled with dad's lighter with my fingers. Gripping it tight, I closed my watery eyes, as tears raced down my cheeks. Kayley had managed to get herself off the floor, and I darted around to find her heading for the door.

My mind racked until I could barely remember where I was.

"Don't _fucking _walk out!" I shrieked as I stormed over and threw her down onto the floor again.

"Just leave me _alone_, Shaylee!" she yelled, as she looked up at me, her makeup smudging horrifically on her face.

"Leave you alone?" I said, calmly. The monster made me burst into callous laughter. "Leave you _alone_?! Ha! Wonder who's the victim _now_, eh, Lyons?"

I was still grabbing onto the lighter in my pocket. With my head still guiding me, I glanced around to room to see any punishments for the deceitful liar. My head was telling me to show her who was in control.

I was going to show her alright.

Taking a deep breath, I sauntered over to the worktable, where all the stuff for experiments are kept. The table had recently been refurbished, made from the finest wood. I stood by it, stroking it, admiringly. Next to the table were a couple of large, black bin bags, filled with old bits of newspaper that had carelessly been left there after an experiment we did the day before.

I pulled out the lighter from my pocket, curiously glancing at the things in front of me. I'd managed to keep Kayley under control, as she did not move from the floor, obediently staying in her place. I occasionally glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one came in the room, especially a teacher, but I'd probably just smack them anyway.

Kayley was panting hard, making me chuckle under my breath.

"Calm down now…" I whispered to my head, gritting my teeth. "Come on, shut up."

I heard Kayley slowly rising to her feet, making me dart my head towards her. When she saw my angry expression, she flinched her hands up in the air, gesturing me to calm myself. Like she could achieve that.

"Please, Shaylee, calm down," she said, her voice shaking. "I'm really sorry…"

"So you're admitting it?" I snapped.

"No, I mean…"

I started flicking the lighter, displaying the beautiful flame in my hand.

"You're saying it for attention, aren't you?" I hissed.

"Of course I'm not!" she cried.

"Liar," I said, hoarsely. The anger then started rising again. "Liar, liar, liar…._liar_!"

"Are you mad?!" Kayley shouted backing, away.

I glared at her, giving her the look of death. Still gripping my lighter, I walked over to her, before being right in her terrified face. I grabbed her shirt and pulled her closer to me.

Dad was starting to come through in me again.

"Look at me," I commanded, even though she was. "Am I mad?" I chuckled. "Do I look mad to you?" She remained silent. I then began to walk back to where I'd come from again, dragging her with me by her shirt as she struggled in my grip. "I'll prove to you I'm not mad. _I'm not mad_."

I lifted up my lighter to her face, flicking the light and keeping it lit in front of both our faces.

_Think of the beautiful fires you love, Shaylee._

I smirked at her, before finally letting her go and pushing her away, but this time she didn't fall.

That's when it happened. I let my mind take control. I drew my lighter closer to the plastic bags with the newspapers piled inside. The flame met the paper, and they immediately burst gorgeously into flames, burying the fires inside of them.

Kayley screamed, to which I responded by laughing and chucking her on the floor. I turned back and saw the flames grow larger, until the bag itself was covered in dancing fire.

I don't know what came over me, but I started laughing. I wasn't chuckling quietly, I was laughing hysterically, kicking the bag over until the burning papers were covering the floor.

My laughter was almost turning insane. I was turning into dad. Even though I was cackling, I wasn't sure if I was enjoying myself or not. Some parts of me felt terrified, even more so than Kayley, who was crying and shrieking, struggling on the floor.

I saw her run for the door, and I dashed after her.

"Where you going?" I asked, casually.

"Where am I _going_?!" she cried. "You just fucking set a class on fire! On purpose! You think I'm gonna…"

She screamed again, backing up on the door as the fire grew larger. I found it fascinating how this started from my little cigarette lighter. I couldn't help but grin widely, my brain still making shrill noises, making it almost impossible to hear Kayley.

"You're right," I laughed. "We better go before we're caught…." I nodded sarcastically.

"_We _get caught?!"

"Oh shut up." I glanced over to the desks and I gasped. "Oh shit, my bag!"

I ran over and quickly grabbed my bag, as Kayley ran out the door. I rose slowly to face the door's entrance into the corridor, with the fire still glowing wonderfully behind me. There were already kids crowded round Kayley, as she whimpered onto them.

I stormed out too, slamming the door behind me.

"What's happened?!" one boy asked, his tone dripping with worry.

"Oh my god, is that class _on fire_?" one older girl exclaimed.

"Yes! Shaylee Napier did it!" Kayley cried hysterically, pointing at me.

Everyone in the corridor stared at me. I couldn't take it. I turned away and placed my head on the wall, clutching onto it, scrunching my eyes and panting hard.

It didn't help that all the kids started stampeding around me, their shouting overlapping one another until it sounded thunderous. I even gripped my fading black dyed hair, trying to take breaths.

"Someone tell Mrs. Quaid!" someone yelled.

"I'll get Mr. Martin!" another said.

Then people were trying to talk to me, firing questions and insults at me. One boy in my grade started shouting in my face but I didn't want to look at him.

"What the _fuck _are you _doing_, you crazy bitch?!" he shouted, spit firing from his mouth. "Why did you _do that_?"

"Please," I retorted, trying to keep the anger locked inside. "Please, just stay away from me. Leave me alone, just _please_….Stay _away_."

"Why should I when you just set a fucking class on fire?! Did you want to keep Kayley in there?! She could have fucking died!"

"Don't be so stupid," I answered back, gripping my head tighter.

"Oh yeah, you're big enough to burn down a class room but not big enough to face people!"

"Just leave me alone…."

"No, fuck off!"

"Shut _up_."

"Think you're so big and badass when you're actually pathetic!"

"Shut…up!"

He then grabbed my shoulders, making me explode. The voices roared. The surge of anger made me punch him hard in the face. He collapsed onto the floor, grabbing everyone's attention, but that couldn't stop me. I groaned loudly as I kicked him in the stomach as he gasped for air on the floor.

I suddenly felt being grabbed by the arms and being held backwards. I screamed as I struggled to break free, tears streaming down my cheeks. It turned out to be Chelsea who was holding me back.

"_Get off me_!" I roared.

"Shaylee! Shaylee, calm down babe! Come on," Chelsea said, sharply.

"_No_!"

I burst into tears as I suddenly became weak. Chelsea came in front of me, rubbing my arms as I stood there, panting hard.

"Shaylee, calm yourself," she said, soothingly.

"How can I when _that little shit _thinks he can just speak to me like that!" I screamed, trying to storm past Chelsea again, but she held me firmly back. "Don't _anybody _give me a chance to calm the fuck down?!"

"_I_ am right now!" Chelsea said.

I inhaled heavily. I glanced back over at the door to the science lab, peering through the tiny window. I didn't notice much flames or smoke from inside.

Mrs. Quaid, the principal, all of sudden came rushing through everyone like a patrolling officer, followed by a group of kids who had informed her what had happened. Obviously my fire wasn't big enough yet as it hadn't set off the smoke alarms. Her face was red and she looked alarmed when she saw the boy I'd just attacked still lying on the floor. She, along with some kids, helped him struggle to his feet. Chelsea tried to keep me calm, and the voices did fade a little, but the commotion around me carried it on.

The chaotic atmosphere seemed almost like one of dad's situations. Oh how I wished I had a gun with me at that moment so I could shoot Kayley's attention seeking ass.

"Take him to my office," Mrs. Quaid told two boys, who nodded and carried the limping boy away down the corridor. I clung onto Chelsea as I knew what was about to happen. "Everyone, outside right now!" the principal instructed, and everyone immediately started filing out. I thought I could join them and get away with it, but no one can fool Mrs. Quaid's annoyingly watchful eye. "_Shaylee Napier_!" she yelled.

I stopped in my tracks and rolled my eyes at Chelsea, who managed to give me a sympathetic look.

I turned around to find her storming towards me. I folded my arms and gave the impression I couldn't care less, raising my eyebrows at her. I took a deep breath to calm myself, but it soon failed.

"You, young lady…" she began.

"To your office?" I interrupted. "Oh sure I'll go to your office. Nothing new, is it?"

"Don't you _dare _get cheeky with me, Miss Napier!" she barked. "To my office now, there you can explain yourself."

"Okay. Sure," I answered, sinisterly.

"And you, outside, Miss Archer," Mrs. Quaid said to Chelsea.

"I'm just going, I was trying to calm her down," Chelsea explained.

I managed to form a small smile at her. "Thanks, honey," I said.

"Miss Napier…"

"I'm _going_!" I yelled. "God's sake!"

I barged past her and started marching down the corridor, picking up my bag as I left, followed closely by Mrs. Quaid. The bell rang as soon as we arrived at the reception desk, where the boy I'd beaten up was sitting there, pathetically. I scowled at him as we walked past and through the door behind the reception desk to enter Mrs. Quaid's office.

She slammed the door behind her and sat at her desk. I just stood there with my arms folded, allowing the anger and voiced to slowly leave my mind. They were still swirling and overlapping each other, but they were fading away into the distance. I felt more relaxed now, like I was back in my tedious school environment, and not like I was in a scene of monstrosity.

"Sit down," Mrs. Quaid commanded.

I did so with a huge sigh, crossing my legs so they matched my arms. I gave her that uncomfortable stare, but just before she could interrogate me, the phone on her desk started ringing. She picked it up with an annoyed sigh.

"Mrs. Quaid speaking," she said into the phone. "Hello, Mr. Martin. Yes. Yes…it's completely clear? Oh thank goodness. Yes, I have her here now. Yes. Sorry? Yes, yes, I sent all the students outside. Oh that's good. That's a _relief _to hear. Okay, yes. I shall meet you then, yes. Okay. Okay, thank you. Bye, now. Bye."

She slammed the phone down as I stared at her curiously.

"What did he want?" I asked.

"That's none of your concern, Shaylee."

"Well, it is. If he was talking about the science lab…"

"They have managed to put the fire out." I just simply nodded. "Speaking of which, how _dare _you…how _dare _you do that in my school! That is absolutely disrespecting your school environment!"

"Well, to be honest, Mrs. Quaid…"

"Do _not _interrupt me!"

"Well, aren't I allowed to say what I think?"

"Once I inform you the seriousness of what you have done in my school!"

"How'd you even know it was _me_?"

"Because I was informed by two students from your grade, Miss Napier, that you had done this, and with Kayley Lyons with you in the classroom as you did it…"

"But…"

"Quiet! What have you _done_?! You have set one of my classes on fire and attacked _two _fellow students with no reason!" I burst into laughter. "Don't you dare laugh! What is so funny, exactly?!"

"I attacked them for _no reason_?" I laughed. "That's a load of crap, Mrs. Quaid! Why would I just do it for _no reason_?!"

"Then what is your reason, then, Shaylee?"

I was prepared to answer back, but I found myself being lost for words for a few moments. I could only think of one answer: "Because…they made me mad."

"How?"

"They…well…I hit that kid because he was yelling in my face and was talking to me like a piece of shit…."

"Mind your language."

"Sorry." I sighed impatiently. "As I was _saying_…yeah, he shouted in my face while I was trying to calm down and he wasn't exactly _helping_…and Kayley…wait, how do you even _know _I..." I quoted with my fingers, "…'attacked' her?"

"The two girls who informed me of what happened said they had been told by Miss Lyons that you threatened her before you set the classroom on fire! We also have evidence on the security cameras!"

"Actually, Mrs. Quaid…"

"Be quiet. I don't want to hear any excuses! Do you realise, Shaylee, that this could put the school in serious trouble? But you have also disobeyed the rules by attacking other students when you know _full well _that is _not _tolerated! Never in all my years at this school have I witness such disgusting behaviour!"

"You didn't witness it, actually."

She shook her head at me. "You have a serious attitude problem, young lady…"

"You _know_ I have a disorder, Mrs. Quaid! You got told by my Elementary School about my ADHD, it's something that can't be helped! You do realise I don't _want _to lash out at other kids but when I get angry, I…" My voice cracked. "I…I can't control myself. Plus, if they didn't _push _me to be angry then it would never have happened! Maybe you should talk to Kayley as well because she was the cause of what I did."

"Shaylee, you _must _know what you did is highly dangerous and intolerable."

"Well…yeah…maybe so, but…Kayley made me mad…"

"Shaylee…"

My voice started to go all wobbly. "_Please _just listen to me!"

She paused. I looked at her with pleading eyes as she sighed and shuffled in her chair.

"Okay, if you must," she finally said.

I took a deep breath. "I have this disorder…not ADHD, something else…" Mrs. Quaid's eyes widened. "She was going on about how she could hear her grandfather's voice inside her head because he's just passed away, right? It all looked fake to me. I got angry because, well…some people suffer from hearing voices and suffer badly…I _know_…I just got mad because she was lying about it when it's something you shouldn't make up just to make everyone feel all sorry for you. She was saying it for a reaction, I could tell by the way she was acting. Don't think I'm lying, Miss, because I _know_…"

"I understand completely why you got angry and I shall have a word with Kayley about this as I totally understand where you're coming from…"

"Thank you!" I looked down into my lap to hide my tears.

"But you must realise what you have done is a serious matter, something that will make me and the rest of the staff question your right to stay in this school."

I shot my head up at her. "What?"

"Miss Napier, I have never seen such shocking behaviour from a student before, especially of a 13-year-old. I have no choice whether to question your right in this school based on the seriousness of what you have done today. I know previously you have had fights with other students but nothing like what you have done this afternoon…"

"You can't suspend me for doing something I couldn't help!"

"You can't blame everything on your disorders, Shaylee…"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You just don't understand! There's more going on my head than you think!"

"In that case, I think you must seek help for this…"

"_You_ can't make me get help for anything!"

"Shaylee…"

"Do you know what's going on in my head or in my life? No, you _don't_."

"Listen to me." I folded my arms in frustration. "I shall be writing to your parents about the incident and I shall have a meeting with the other members of staff and possibly the school governors to decide upon the matter."

"This is ridiculous."

"You shall receive detention tonight."

"You know what? _Fuck _that. I don't really care if you suspend me for a week or not, I want to get away from this shit hole. No one _ever _even _tries _to understand, you all just judge me and try to keep me under control when it's _clear_…and I'm admitting this…that it's _impossible _to control my anger. No one in this place has bothered to help me. Let's face it. So, you know what? I don't care."

I stood up and grabbed my bag, beginning to storm towards the door. Mrs. Quaid dominantly stood in her chair.

"You sit back down, young lady!" she shouted.

I looked back at her in disgust. "Why do I need to? You've made it _very clear _what you're going to do. You're gonna write a letter to my…" I paused as a thought suddenly crossed my mind. "…to my dad…saying what's gonna happen. You're gonna talk to Kayley, I have detention and all that. That's it, right? The class is cleared now, there's no fire, so I'm gonna go."

She didn't manage to get another word in as I quickly made my escape, bursting through her office door, out into reception and through the main entrance. As soon as I was outside, I immediately lit myself a cigarette. I was lucky Mrs. Quaid didn't even confiscate it, I was even surprised it had managed to stay in pocket after all that havoc. I lit it up and put the box in my jacket pocket. The cigarette was trembling in my hand, but the inhales and exhales soon calmed my frustration.

I knew fully well I wasn't allowed to smoke at the front of the school and I was right now supposed to be in class, but right there and then I felt the most important thing was to calm myself down, I didn't care about the security cameras.

I dashed behind the wall so no teachers could spot me, and when I finished I buried it right into the grass, covering it in mud. I flipped out my hand mirror from my bag and gasped in horror when I saw the horrific state I was in. My eyeliner was stained on my cheeks from where I'd been crying, smudging my blusher and foundation. The black lipstick was barely noticeable now, so I quickly redid it. There was no use for that after I just wiped my whole face clean with a tissue, but that just made it worse.

I leaned down and sat against the wall, taking a few moments to compose myself. I couldn't believe what had just occurred. All the noises, the voices, the anger, the violence. I had taken all of it in now. The screaming monster inside of me was now beginning to get inside my soul. It felt very peculiar, feeling dominant but, I sort of liked it. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it.

I decided I'd had enough of school for one day, and to wipe all my makeup off successfully I would need the mirror at home.

Plus, I just wanted to see dad. I needed my father.

Chase and I had discovered the year before this secret way to escape from the school, going all the way around the back and through a narrow space in the gate, which led to a pathway that eventually brought you back into the streets of Gotham City. I sneaked my way to the space, ducking under windows like a detective searching for clues, always cautiously walking and checking to see if I wasn't spotted.

Taking another smoke as I walked down the secret pathway and out into the streets made me feel completely calmer, plus taking in all the commotion in the City made me feel so much better. I had a free mind now. I walked all the way to the bus station, the one further away from the school, so I wouldn't be spotted. The journey home would be no problem, as I always made sure I took spare money with me to school, in case of emergencies. As I was strolling to the station, I took pleasure in watching the busyness and the pushing and shoving. Dad told me to always look out for interesting things happening in the City, as it could be entertaining to watch the people of Gotham get into a fight or trying to take on the police, or even just witnessing two people having a conversation about the fuss in Gotham.

On my journey home, I stared out of the window, thinking about everything. I tried not to think about Kayley and our little disagreement, but more about what Mrs. Quaid had said. I definitely knew they were going to suspend me for a long time, but I didn't care. In fact that's what I wanted, time away so I could carry on with my art projects in peace. I even thought about the possibility I would get expelled. Maybe I would, but then what would I do? Move to Little Hill Middle School in the town? I don't think so. They couldn't do that, could they? Expel a girl with a behavioural disorder because she went a bit mad at two kids? Plus, expel her in final year before she moved onto higher education in Gotham High the next year? Just _no_, they couldn't. Yeah, I set a class on fire, but, I didn't _want_ to. It just sort of happened. I know it sounds ridiculous but that's the truth.

I arrived back in the town and ran almost all the way back to out flat, which was only five or so minutes away. I had a beam on my face the whole way there, just with the thought of seeing dad when I got home. I stopped in my tracks when I came onto my shabby, grey street of flats. I was home early, so dad may not be home yet. In fact, I _knew _he wouldn't be home. He came home rather late now, even later than he did when I was younger.

I had a stroke of luck that day.

The door was unlocked, and I came in, slowly. As I shut the door behind me, I could hear water battering in the bathroom and dad humming, loudly.

"Dad?" I called, putting my bag to the side. I carefully walked over to the bathroom door. "Dad?" I called, louder.

"Shaylee?" he answered.

"Dad are you…are you in the _shower_?!" I asked, shocked.

Dad always took a bath, he barely touched the shower that I mainly used.

"Yeah," he said. "What are you doing home so early, Shay? What's happened?"

I gulped. "Uhh…it's a long story. What are you _doing _in there?"

"Trying to get this damn dye out of my hair."

I giggled. "Dad, just washing the hair normally won't get it out, you know. You have to do it certain way."

"I know that, and I've tried it. I'm rinsing it off, but I don't think I've done it right. Nothing's coming out. I'll be out in a minute, honey…"

"Okay!"

"…to hear this 'long story'."

I made my way into the sitting room where mom's old dressing table was waiting. I used a ton of baby wipes to try and get rid of my smudging makeup, which took so long that during the process, dad already come out of the bathroom and strolled in wearing his dressing down. His green hair with his natural brown growing at the roots was soaking, dripping in front of his face. I'd managed to sort myself out by the time he'd sat on the sofa, holding a mug of coffee in his hand. I took out my ponytail and let my black hair hang loose, as I rubbed my naked face to feel the coolness of not wearing makeup.

I flung onto the sofa with dad, who looked at me, questionably.

"What?" I asked.

Dad could instantly read my mind. "What's happened, Shaylee?" he questioned. I sighed, staring ahead at the blank wall. "Hey, look at me," Dad ordered, which I responded to, nervously. "Come on. I _know _something's up."

"I had to get out of there, dad."

"Why?"

I sighed. "I had a…I had…something _happened_."

"Oh God, what? Have you been fighting again?"

"Well…not exactly. More like I kicked their asses but they didn't respond."

Dad laughed, putting his mug down by his feet. "What did they do _this time_, sweetie?"

"This guy was yelling in my face while I was trying to calm myself down. The idiot couldn't work it out that I was trying to calm myself so I punched him right in the face and kicked him on the floor. His nose was bleeding."

"Oooh…"

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Why were you trying to calm down, Shaylee? Get angry with another teacher, hmm?"

"No, dad, this…this was _lunchtime_."

"Ahh, so you _did _get into a fight?"

"It was Kayley."

Dad sighed. "Not _her _again. I thought she doesn't bother you anymore."

"She doesn't. I bother _her_ mostly now."

I told dad everything that happened, going into all the gory details. I tried to tell him like he tells his stories, making gestures and using my face. I explained how the voices were telling me to do it, it didn't feel like _I _was doing it. It got to point where I was explaining in so much detail, that I felt my voice trembling. Dad immediately put his arm around me and lifted my chin up.

"Shhh-hh-hh-hh….come on now," he said, softly. "_Calm down_."

"But _dad_," I whimpered. "They just _don't _understand, they don't know…it's _so _unfair…"

"I know, I know…" Dad whispered. "Don't get yourself all worried. You had every reason to get mad at the bitch. Who the hell does she think she is?"

"But dad…I didn't _mean _to…you know…"

"Shaylee, I know that, but…" He paused, looking upwards slightly before turning back to me. "How did you feel when it did happened? You know, when the fire was lit beautifully and it was starting to burn down the class?"

I sniffled and went into deep thought. I looked up at no one in particular, trying to get myself back into the moment of when it did happen.

"It felt…it felt kinda neat…in a way…" I said.

"A sense of accomplishment?" Dad asked, a smile now beginning to form.

"Sort of…yeah. I don't know. I _shouldn't _have felt, you know…_good_ about it."

"You were showing her what can happen if she makes you _angry_. Showing her what happens when you go mad. Shh. Listen to me. Something similar happened when I was in school, y'know. One day, some kid makes me mad because he was making fun of the fact I had a crush on Harleen. I was around fifteen at the time. He was in my face, and tells me…that I'm a fool, that I'm a fucking freak. Of course at the time I was _just_…becoming a _little bit_ of an unpredictable schizoid, so…I lashed out at him, beating him on the ground, a bit like you did, and Larry came to my aid. The kid fought back, but he couldn't take me and Larry _on_…the little idiot was nothing more than a _coward_. How many bullies do you know turn out be geniuses? None. They all turn out to be the most pathetic people _around_. I'd stolen my father's knife at the time…because I wanted to defend myself…and I put it up to him, while he was against the wall, saying…'If you _ever _come near me again then I'll slice you up and carve you a _new one_.' And you know…he never bothered me again after that. If he _tried to_…Larry would beat the silly dunce. Still, it wasn't enough to impress Harleen, though now I think she'd drool over the whole thing. Luckily, no one _ever _found out because Larry threatened to beat the shit out of that guy after school if he told anyone. Do you understand the point of this, sweetheart?"

"Uhh…" I stuttered.

"I _mean_…it was the first time, I felt a sense of achievement in school by doing something…"

"Dangerous?" I said.

"Precisely."

"I thought you'd be mad at me for setting a class on fire, dad."

Dad chuckled. "Could I _ever _hold a grudge with you, Shay? You can't help it. I _told_ you, if you ever hear voices and it makes you do something crazy, tell me. And you have. That's all that bothers me, is that you _tell _me. I can't do anything to help your unfortunate problems, can I? No one can. But I'd rather you tell me about it. So don't you worry, baby. The teachers at that school are useless. You're right, they don't understand. They don't even _try _to."

"I don't care if they suspend me. I want to be away from there."

"Tell you what then. Give tomorrow a miss, and then next week don't go in at all. You can spend time with me if you want."

I smiled gratefully at him. "Really?"

"Shaylee, I know you. You don't want to go back and people be constantly talking about it for another week, do you? Give them a week to get over it."

I squeezed him tightly, and he hugged me back.

"They'll suspend me, anyway, dad," I said, still nuzzling against him. "It'll be a miracle if they let me off. They said they'll send a letter to you saying what's going to happen to me."

"Oh like I'll pay attention to _that_."

We shared a laugh as I stayed laying on my father for a while. He looked down at me, giving me a sympathetic smile and affectionate rub on my arm.

"So what have you been doing today, dad?" I asked, after a while.

"Ahh, just the usual. Went and got some money." He winked at me, making me giggle. "Paid a visit to the little clothes shop down the road, too. Got some new ties, other ones are getting a bit old now."

"Did you take my cards with you?" I asked, beaming.

"Oh yes, I never leave without 'em. They're very important."

"Why dad? What do you _use _them for, anyway?"

"All in good time."

"_Please _tell me…"

"No, no, Shay, you have to be _me_ to understand. If I tell you, I, uh…you wouldn't believe me."

"Why…"

"Ah, ah, ah…it's something…" He sighed before closing his eyes and grinning widely. "It's something that only _I_ can understand. Like I've told you before, there's something changing, darlin', and it's…it's strange, but…I'm not crazy."

"I know you're not. And if you go mad, you can't help it, it's the…"

"Yes, yes, alright, don't talk about it." There was a few moments of awkward silence, but I remained nestled of to his side and luckily he didn't get angry. He kept his arm around my shoulders. Then he suddenly spoke up. "Right," he said to me. "You hungry, Shay? I presume you haven't ate because of that little incident that was _kind of _a distraction."

"No, I haven't."

Dad stood up, clicking his neck and stretching. "Well, then, best get you something."

"Aw, yes please, that's be amazing."

"I'll get something while you be a good girl and go and calm down in your room."

I stood up, laughing. "Dad, I'm calm now, you know. Still feel a little funny though."

"Aww," Dad said. "Not feeling too well?"

"I'm fine, just a bit…strange."

"I wonder why." He winked at me, as we both giggled. "Go on then, sweetheart, I'll call ya. Then I'll go out for a bit, got a date at the bank."

"Okay," I chuckled.

I slowly gave him a hug, but he complied and even gave me a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't worry about it, honey, okay?" he said. "Just forget about it. Nothing's damaged badly in the classroom, is it? It's not like the whole school went up in flames."

"Kinda wish it did though."

Dad spluttered into laughter. "Oh, Shaylee, you are funny, aren't ya? Go on, ya cheeky monkey."

The night continued just as dad had said. We had lunch, dad making me a sandwich and some salad, and immediately went out, but locking me in. I did my usual art work while he was out, but using the sitting room in front of the television while I had the room to myself. I drew bats and skull patterns all over two blank sheets of paper and writing my name in fancy writing. I'd been learning how to draw anagrams in school, and because techniques in art lessons were the only things I took on board, I decided to practice.

Nothing interesting came on the television. I prayed that nothing about me nearly burning down a classroom came up on the news, but, thankfully, it didn't. I knew that surely it would appear at some point, though, but I didn't really care. People could think everything they wanted about me. I knew the truth. Dad knew the truth. No one could understand what's it was like to be thirteen years old and having schizophrenia that seemed to be worsening. I hated it so much. I _still_ despise it with a passion, but unfortunately, something like that can never be cured.

Dad returned home at around 9:30pm, and I had gotten myself ready for bed by then. I was in the kitchen, tidying up when he came in.

"I'm back, my love," he called as he walked into his bedroom.

"Hi, dad," I greeted, cheerfully. "Is everything okay?"

I heard his draw slam followed by cluttering. "Yeah." Dad cleared his throat. "Got work done, got some, ah…_money_ for us to spend on food this week, Shay, from the _bank_. Got help from my friend Rob, he was let out of prison last week, little shit didn't learn his lesson, did he, baby?!" We both laughed. Dad then came in, looking exhausted and his eyes appearing to be bloodshot. "What you been up to, Shay?"

"Just been drawing, watching TV," I replied. "Been tidying the kitchen."

"Stayed away from lighters, hmm?" Dad chuckled.

"Obviously not, I went for a smoke before."

I'd finally let dad know I'd started smoking. I'd told him about a month before then. Well, I didn't tell him, he _caught_ me one day having one in the garden, when I thought he'd gone in the bath. I was so relieved when he didn't seem to care that much. I thought he'd be a little concerned about it, but he didn't seem to mind at all. He forbid me from smoking in the house, though.

"But that's it, right?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, I promise."

"Ahh, you _are_ a good girl."

Dad slumped down on the chair, his hair flopping in front of his face as he stared down at his lap.

"You okay, dad? You tired?" I asked, closing the cutlery draw.

"Yeah…yeah…I'll…I'll go bed in a minute."

"I'm going to go too, I'm exhausted."

"_You're _exhausted? You weren't just running around like a madman escaping from a bank with a pile of money, were ya?"

"I suppose not," I laughed.

I went to walk out the door to my bedroom, but dad stopped me with a cough.

"Shaylee," he said. I turned around and smiled at him. "You still up for us going out?"

"Tomorrow?"

"What about this weekend? I'll give you a lazy day tomorrow, you _need _one after all that's happened today. Ah, Saturday we'll go for a little trip into town, huh? How's that sound?"

"Yeah, yeah okay, I'm up for it."

"Okay then, pumpkin. You off to bed?" I nodded my head, rubbing my eyes. "Come 'ere then." Dad outstretched his arms, I walked tiredly into a hug and he held me close. "Ahh, been a bit of a shitty day for ya, huh?"

"It's been horrible," I whispered, sadly.

"That's why I'm not letting you go back tomorrow. You don't wanna face those idiots again, do ya? Especially that Kayley, who I will happily track down for you."

"No!" I cried, coming out of the hug.

"Shaylee, I'm joking, relax," Dad laughed. "I'm always joking around, aren't I?"

"Yeah," I giggled.

"Alright, goodnight, beautiful," Dad said, nudging my cheek before standing up.

"Night, dad."

Dad kept his promise and left me be the next day. I woke up late in the morning and I knew dad had already left the house because I didn't hear a sound when I awoke. I didn't budge from my bed for ages, I stirred a little but I just stared at the ceiling. The memories from the day before came rampaging back into my head. This time, I didn't start crying. I didn't feel any sort of emotion at all. I just thought about it. I don't know what details I recalled, but I just kept replaying the scene in my mind. Even though I'd felt like I could almost kill someone that day before, weirdly, I didn't feel that way when I remembered it.

I did eventually shift myself out of bed and headed into the bathroom for a shower. As I locked the door behind me and started to get undressed, I noticed that dad had carelessly left the flannel dripping wet on the floor, making it slippery. I carefully picked it up, rinsed it and put it into the sink before cautiously stepping into the shower, but before I could do anything more, I noticed that there was thick white paint smeared onto my palms. I was startled by it, quickly darting my head back towards the flannel I'd put in the sink. I reached over and held it loosely in my fingers, and that's when I realised it was covered in white face paint. I curiously looked around me, until I noticed an open pot of it had been left out in the shower next to me. I exchanged looks between them. Although I was highly curious, I decided to leave it, placing the flannel at the side.

I enjoyed my shower as many thoughts spun around in my head about what I'd just found. I knew dad had used them, mostly likely that morning. I couldn't work it out. I couldn't make any connections. It was all very odd.

Even though I loved my dad more than anything, I felt a little frightened inside. The fact he was coming home later, that there were knives just laying around in the flat everywhere, and that all of these mysterious things were appearing.

Once I'd finished and went through the ordinary process of getting changed, blow-drying my hair and putting on some light makeup, I sat and watched one of dad's action movies for the early afternoon. It was nice to have a bit of time to myself for a change and not going through the process of going to school that Friday.

Both GMS and Gotham High finished at 3:30 so I decided at around 4 o'clock I'd go round to Chase's house, just for a little catch up, as I hadn't seen him in a while. I left at 4 o'clock, leaving a note for dad on the kitchen table in case he came back. I preened myself up to visit Chase, adding more makeup and wearing a black denim skirt with my purple bat t-shirt and of course not forgetting my favourite purple jacket. I straightened my hair in the mirror before leaving and locking the flat. I managed to walk there in ten minutes flat, making myself look decent before knocking on the door.

Chase lived in a far grander place than I did. He lived in a three-bedroom house with a huge kitchen and his own den area as well as his bedroom, which was covered from top to bottom with posters of rock bands and other stuff that boys were into. It was probably one of the nicest houses you could get in Gotham Town. I lived on the crummy side, in the streets lined with cramped flats where the unemployed lived.

Mrs. Delancey, now known to me as just simply Julia, answered the door and smiled at me, pleasantly. I put my hair behind my hair and smiled back. She was very beautiful, a perfectly-built woman with black hair and green eyes just like Chase. Chase looked a lot like her, and she was so cheerful and friendly. You would never have guessed in your life she'd had a rough time going through a traumatic marriage to Chase's father. I _so _wished she was my mother.

"Hiya, Shaylee," she greeted.

"Hi, Julia," I said.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm…I'm fine, uh…is Chase home?"

"Oh, sweetie, I'm afraid not. He's gone round to Alex's house in the City with the boys. Didn't he tell you?"

"No."

"Oh…oh I'm sorry, Shaylee."

"No, no, it's okay. I'll just see him again soon I guess."

"I can't believe he didn't invite you."

"When did they plan this, do you know?"

"He only told me when he got in about half an hour ago. He just told me he was going out. Can't stop young boys hanging out these days, can you? You can still come in if you want to, Shaylee."

"No, no…it's okay. I don't want to disturb you or anything."

"Oh you're not, it's just me here. Really, it's okay."

"No, Julia, really, I…I better get back for when my dad comes home, I don't want him to worry, you know."

"Okay then, Shaylee."

"Thank you anyway, Julia."

"No problem, honey, see you soon."

"See you soon. Bye."

She waved before she closed the door behind her. I walked away, feeling so disappointed. My heart did feel heavy, but I didn't blame Chase for wanting to hang out with the boys instead of being stuck at home with his mom. He was doing it a lot, going out drinking with them all the time. When we all hung around together (mostly on weekends), we met up in the City and hung around the stores, and most of them drunk alcohol even then. I spent more time with Chase more than any of the others, and I knew some of them were pissed off about it, particularly Alex, because he considered himself to be Chase's best friend, even though he knew full well _I _was Chase's best friend. If I had a phone, I would have rang Chase right then to ask if I could join them, but dad still wouldn't let me have one, he said I'd have to wait until my next birthday, which was only a month away at the time.

I returned to an empty flat and decided to once again start drawing. I soon got bored with it, though, as I couldn't think of anything new. I lay in bed until I eventually fell asleep. I awoke later and dad still wasn't home, the time was 6:35pm. I ordered myself a pizza as I was too lazy to make myself some dinner. I had my pyjamas on by seven.

While I munched on my pepperoni pizza in front of the television, I heard a clatter come through the letterbox. With an annoyed sigh, I went to the door to see what could possibly have arrived in the flat, as we hardly ever got mail. A letter in a brown envelope was lying on the floor, staring up at me like it was important. Wiping my greasy hands on my jeans, I picked it up and looked at it curiously. I glanced at the corner where the Gotham Middle School logo was printed. Even though no one was around, I looked around the room, thinking about what I should do. It was addressed to dad and not me, but I was so eager to read it. I knew it would be my suspension letter. I decided in the end to leave it in the kitchen for dad to read later. I felt so stupid for not having the courage to open it, but I thought I'd show I didn't care more by not finding out my fate.

I was in bed designing another Joker card when dad finally came home about an hour and a half later. He slammed the door behind him and I heard him grumbling as he marched into his room. I heard him banging his wardrobe doors and loud clattering. I knew he was in a rotten mood, so I dashed into his room, panicking.

"Dad?!" I called, as I ran into his room. I froze when I found him getting changed into his pyjamas. "Oh…damn it. Sorry." I went to walk out again.

"No, no, Shaylee…it's alright, come in." Dad sounded very calm considering he'd just been parading around the house.

I anxiously walked in, shutting the door and leaning on it. He put on his night clothes and flopped onto his bed, grabbing his hands underneath the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. He was taking deep breaths. I glanced over at his side desk to notice two knives were lying there, one of them clean and shiny, the other one was covered in crimson stains. I started to feel my heart beating fast.

"Dad?" I said, quietly.

"What?"

"Is everything okay?" Dad didn't answer, he continued to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling. I went and carefully sat on the end of the bed, crossing my legs and tugging on his pyjama bottoms. "Daddy, please answer me."

"I'm fine."

"No. No you're not."

"How would you know?"

"You don't seem to be in a good mood."

Dad sighed heavily, and finally sat up, crossed-legged, facing me. He looked me right in the eyes, as did I.

"I…I'm okay, Shaylee, I swear."

"What's with the…" I pointed towards the knives on the desk. "What's with those?"

"I always carry those round, you should know that."

"Isn't…isn't one of those covered in…blood?"

Dad raised his eyebrows at me. "So you _did_ notice, huh?"

"Of course I did, it's hardly unnoticeable."

"Alright, alright…I got into a fight."

I gasped in horror, leaning in closer to him.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" I cried.

"I'm fine. I completely uninjured, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"One of the guys didn't wanna listen to me tonight, so I…"

"Dad, you didn't…"

"What?"

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Oh no, no, no, no…never _killed _him. I just…"

"What?!"

"I just…I just gave him a piece of my mind with the knife, baby." A creepy smirk formed on his lips.

"What do you mean, did you…?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you...uh..."

"Just say it. I know what you want to say."

I lowered my voice for no particular reason. "Did you…did you stab him?"

"_There we go_. Got there, eventually, didn't we?"

"Dad, why would you _stab_ your friend?"

Dad chuckled. "Shaylee, darling, come 'ere." I sat closer to him and he took both of my hands, still grinning. He said every word crisp and clear, not taking his eyes away from my worried facial expression. I didn't dare look away from him. "You _know _we both get angry because of the…you know…they make us _do things_. You and I both know it's getting worse, right? I'm a 36-year-old man and it's _still _getting worse for me. I just went crazy. I don't know _what _came over me, I couldn't...control myself. I didn't _kill_ him…he's alright, but he may not live to see tomorrow. I don't care. He disobeyed me. Oh, he'll regret that now. You can't rely on anyone these days, can you? You've seen me angry, haven't you, Shay? What you've seen of me was _nothing_ compared to what happened just now. I'm _so _glad you didn't see it. My head…my head is…"

All of a sudden he sighed and leaned his head against mine, looking almost weak and helpless. It was almost like he collapsed onto me. I put my arms around his neck and held him like a small child.

"Dad, calm down…it's okay…" I whispered.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm _okay_…" he mumbled. "It's just my head, my stupid fucking _head_."

"It's not real, dad."

"I know, I know…"

"Come on, you're okay. It's all over now. You can get through this."

He lifted his head up and managed to smile at me.

"I'm sorry you've had to see me like this, baby."

"Don't be silly, you've had to see _me_ like this _so many times_."

"But you're a young girl…I'm a grown man. That's different, you _need _all the comfort. I shouldn't be breaking down like this, especially in front of you, but…"

"They made you angry. They should know better."

"Too right, too right."

"You didn't get seen stabbing him, right?"

"No. It was in his house. The only person who saw was my other friend, Ken, but he sure as hell won't tell anyone, because I threatened to kill him if he did." Dad suddenly smirked at me. "I _laughed_ while I did it, too. His face was just _so_ priceless."

I was there for five minutes, calming him by doing all the things he did to me when I had just had a little breakdown. He said he had to go out for a cigarette to calm down, and so I joined him in the garden for one.

"Feel better now, dad?" I asked him, as I watched him exhale the smoke.

"Yeah, yeah, much better now," he replied. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine."

"What you been up to?"

"Drawing, watching TV, I ordered a pizza for dinner."

"Ahh, good girl."

"Went round to see if I could see Chase before, but he wasn't in. Gonna try and catch up with him and the guys next weekend."

"Oh, that's good. So nice you have those guys you can talk to."

"Yeah." I exhaled another lot of smoke. "They're probably going to drink, though, but I won't touch the stuff. Not after what happened to mom."

"You're a smart girl, honey."

"Thanks, daddy. Oh by the way, there's a letter for you in the kitchen, if you didn't notice."

"A _letter_? For me?" Dad flicked his cigarette away.

"Yeah, really. It's from the school."

"Oh, fucking hell."

"Dad, I want you to read it."

"Ah, alright. I'll have a look while you finish, then."

Dad stepped on his cigarette and went back into the flat while I finished my cigarette. Once I'd finished, I went back in to find dad sitting down, reading the letter very carefully. He didn't look at me, he was taking his time with it. He finally put it down on the table and started shaking his head.

"Dad, what is it? What does it say?" I asked.

"I think you should look for yourself," Dad answered, giving me the letter.

I took it nervously and started reading it. It was all going fine until I read the following:

_The School Governors and I have come to the overall conclusion that your daughter, Shaylee, no longer has a right to continue her education Gotham Middle School based on the serious damage she has caused to school property and her unacceptable behaviour towards other students. This decision has been made final and she will no longer be permitted back into Gotham Middle School. If you have any concerns please do not hesitate to call the number below and I shall be expecting Shaylee and yourself to attend the above meeting regarding her future plans. Yours sincerely, Mrs. H. Quaid (Principal)._

I looked at dad with pure disbelief, open-mouthed at what I had just read. He was shaking his head in disgust. I felt the anger starting to rage inside of him, as he instantly stood up, knocking over his chair and taking the letter off me. I stood back.

"For starters, Shaylee, they've sent this a bit _late_, haven't they?" he said, hoarsely. "This...this is a load of _shit_. I know it's hard not to get angry at about it, but…fucking _hell_…are they expelling you?"

"Yes…yes they are."

"That is the most ridiculous…" Dad let out a yell, making me jump. "It wasn't you _fault_! They haven't taken into account your disorders _at all_! Okay, they may not know about the schizophrenia, but, _still_, they haven't even noticed you clearly have some of the symptoms?! What a load of bullshit! They don't bother to help! Ahhh, it's like dealing with your mother all over again!"

"Dad, don't _say _that!"

"You know what? I'm ringing 'em! I'm not having this!"

I saw him starting to rip up the paper in his hands into shreds, making me snatch it off him.

"_No_!" I yelled.

"What?"

"I mean…don't rip it up."

"Shaylee, I'm going slightly crazy here!"

"I know, but…don't…look, dad, don't bother ringing them up…it won't even be open…"

"Shaylee, you don't deserve this! Not at all!"

"I know I don't but they're not worth it!" Dad sighed as he leaned his head against the wall, trying to calm himself down. I desperately tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, dad?"

"What?"

"Instead of ripping it, why don't we just burn it? Apparently I'm good at that sort of thing!"

Dad wheeled around and smirked at me, slowly. He then took the letter off me and began to start sniggering.

"You know…you're right. Tomorrow, we'll put it on the campfire. Do you fancy that, my darling?"

"Yeah!"

"Then we can just get rid of this crap!"

"You know what, dad?"

"What?"

"I don't really give a fuck if they've expelled me or not. I hate it with a _passion_ and I hate all of the kids apart from a few. I don't even _want _to go to school anymore!"

"I don't blame you."

"I could be doing better things in the big City than wasting my time with that! I could be providing for us two instead of you just doing it all the time! Showing that City that it's got nothing but a shitty police system and inhabitants that are a load of judgemental, selfish, cowardly idiots!"

Dad raised his eyebrows at me, looking quite bewildered. He slowly put the letter down and then walked up to me until I was looking right up at him. I didn't know what to expect, but I certainly didn't think he'd lift me off my feet, laughing loudly and spin me around in the air. That's exactly what he did. I started laughing and screaming with him, kicking my legs around in the air. He put me down with a load groan.

"God, you're getting heavy," he laughed.

"Dad!" I punched him on his arm.

"Well, you are growing up. You _are _fourteen next month, aren't you? And you know what I've noticed? You're growing up _too _quickly, and that is not a bad thing, honey. You're a thirteen year old girl, yet you have the mind of middle-aged male criminal." He smirked at me as he kneeled down. "You've been expelled, shows you don't care about education because you want to move on from that already. You're right, they're not worth it. Let's not bother with _that _anymore."

"Dad, starting from tomorrow, I can live a free life. I know that sounds silly and over-the-top, but…"

"Oh but it's not." He chuckled. "Tomorrow, we'll go on a little adventure, okay?"

"Totally. I want to help you."

"Oh no, no, no…you're not going to _help _me."

"What? Dad, why not?"

"I'm not stupid, you know, Shaylee. I don't want anyone catching you stealing stuff and I don't want you taken away. The second you're taken away from me, all _hell_ will be let loose, and I mean that. That'll fuck with my head more than anything."

"Are you paranoid constantly that's what going to happen?"

"Every day, Shaylee. Every day I think you're going to be taken away since that night your mom died. That's why I have to be more sneaky and careful now. That's why I'm wearing all these _crazy _clothes, so the police don't recognise me."

"You're so smart, daddy."

"Why thank you, my darling. Now. It's late. I'm sorry about what I've been like tonight…"

"Don't be sorry!"

"But I am. Anyway, let's forget about _everything_ that's happened these past few days. Let's start over. Starting from tomorrow, okay? You best get to bed because I don't start my work late. I get up extra early."

"Okay."

Dad sighed as he stroked my cheek. "Are you scared?"

"About what?"

"About tomorrow."

"Of course I'm not. I'm so excited."

"Good girl!"

I laughed as dad suddenly lifted me up and flung me over his shoulder, holding my legs as I punched his back, squealing.

"Dad put me down!"

Dad carried me into my bedroom and dropped me onto my bed, where I was doubling up with laughter, making dad do just the same. He tickled my belly like I was a little kid again, until eventually stopping and pulling me into a hug.

"Calm yourself, sweetie," Dad said as he hugged me. I took a deep breath as I got myself into bed. Dad pulled the covers over me and kneeled down next to the bed. "Get some sleep," he said. "You're gonna need it."

"So are you gonna like…_train _me tomorrow?" I asked.

"Kinda," Dad replied. "Although I'm guessing I won't need to teach you much. I know how tough you are anyway. You're just like me."

"I'm so glad I am and I'm not feeble like mom was."

"Hey, when I first met her, she wasn't, you know."

"Really?"

"Nah, she was really tough, she took no shit from anyone, including me. You're kinda like both of us."

"More like you, though."

Dad giggled. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, night, night."

"Goodnight, daddy."

"Hope you don't have nightmares!"

"Hope you have hundreds!"

Dad switched off my light and shut my door, quietly, laughing to himself. I nestled down into bed feeling so relaxed.

I felt free, like I had no responsibilities anymore. I knew dad would totally forget about school from now on, and he most definitely wouldn't phone them or go to that meeting Mrs. Quaid talked about in the letter.

It crossed my mind how I'd stay in contact with my friends. I'd managed to so far, but when I had a phone it'd be so much easier. Then I could talk to Chase whenever I wanted.

I was startled when dad woke me up at 8:30am.

"_Shaylee_!" he called, knocking loudly on my bedroom door. "Come on, baby! Get up!"

"Aw, dad, really?" I replied, my voice cracking.

"Yeah, come on! I told you, we have to get up early if we want to get some work done!"

I arose from my bed and it took my ten minutes to try eventually get myself out of bed. I walked into the kitchen to grab some cereal, but I was shocked to find dad already up and dressed, munching on an apple. He was wearing his pocket-infested purple coat again, with a green shirt. Despite the fact he'd bought new ties the day before, he wasn't wearing one.

He turned around and started laughing at me.

"What's funny?" I asked.

"Why you still in your _pyjamas_? Come _on_, we need to get going, baby! I'm all ready to go!"

"No one can get ready _that _quickly. Besides, you haven't packed all your weaponry and stuff."

"I was _just _getting to that, you cheeky monkey! And it takes women longer to get ready in the morning than men, everyone knows that, especially if you're a _young_ girl."

"Hey!"

"Get ready before I go without ya!"

We both laughed as I dashed to my room and quickly got myself changed. I wore something comfortable with my purple jacket (which still unbelievably fit me because puberty hadn't hit me hard enough and I was still about the same size as a ten-year-old, although I was a little taller and I've obviously grown myself a pair of breasts which I tended to find so irritating, especially when Alex talked about them all the time to the other guys). I put on some quick makeup and dad joined me in the sitting room, just as I was about to tie my hair. He was carefully putting a gun in his jean pocket that was easily covered by his coat.

"How you doing your hair, honey?" he asked, walking up next to me.

"I'm doing a ponytail, like I always do," I answered.

"No, no, no…let's do something different today, Shaylee."

"What? Why?"

"You don't want people to take one look at you and think you're just normal, do you? You want people to think, 'oh, just look how sweet and innocent she is.' It's something Harleen did all the time. She put her hair in pigtails."

"Pigtails?"

"Yes. Can you do that, Shay?"

"Well, yeah, but they don't suit me."

"Don't be silly, you look like a cutie whatever your hair's like. Trust me on this one, okay?"

"Okay then."

I didn't want to argue with him so I did exactly as he said and put my hair into pigtails. Chelsea had taught me how to do it, as when we first started middle school she used to wear her hair like that, but I never touched it. It made me look so silly. But I guess if dad can dye his hair green (which was now fading slightly) and wear huge purple coats, then I could war pigtails and look like a slutty school girl.

Once we'd all finished, dad turned all the lights off and closed every door. Before we left, he pulled me to one side inn the hallway.

"Now, I want you take something," he said, grinning.

"What, dad?"

He pulled out a handgun from his side pocket and I stared at him, my eyes gleaming with worry.

"Hey, hey, hey…don't look so worried. You don't _have _to use it, but…just take it. If you wanna defend yourself, you might as well go all out, but…like I've said before, only use when necessary, and by that I mean…firing it. You can use it to back people off by all means, but don't fire it unless you _really need to_. You understand, sweetheart?"

"Of course," I said, taking the gun and placing it inside my own.

"Wonderful," Dad grinned. "Make sure no one can see that. You'll have to wear another jacket so it covers it. One that's longer…"

"Aw, man…"

"Come on now, honey, do as I say."

"Okay," I sighed. I went into my room and swapped my purple jacket with my grey coat, which was long enough to cover the gun, sticking out of my pocket. I came back to dad, closing my door behind me, my pigtails swinging crazily as I walked. "Is that better?" I asked.

"Much better. Now let's go."

We headed out the door, which dad locked behind him and placed his key safely inside his coat. He took my hand and walked me steadily down the street, observing the street around, glancing around like prey searching out for its killer.

"Where we gonna go, dad?" I asked.

"We'll go the bank first. I'll go in and get some money…well, _steal _some money, and you stay outside, on your toes searching for trouble. When I meet you, we get away with the money before I'm caught. Then we'll go shopping, because you girls like that, right? We'll go to the little clothes store next to the grocers. You can get something while I, uh, _talk _to the store owner."

"Sounds awesome."

"Oh and baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Seems like you forgot your money." He tutted, sarcastically. "Might just have to take it without paying instead. Besides, you need new comfy clothes as you won't need to look smart for school anymore, will you?" I giggled as dad continued to guide me down the street. We eventually headed into an alleyway, where a random car was carelessly parked, even though it said 'No Parking.' "Ahh, how convenient," Dad said, pointing at the car as we approached it. "That fool who left that there's gonna regret it now, huh?"

Dad revealed that golden key he'd had three years ago when we escaped on summer vacation and magically unlocked the car with one sharp turn.

"Dad, where did you _get _that key from?" I asked, as he swung open the door. "A key that just opens any car in the world?"

"For me to know and you be fascinated with, honey," Dad chuckled. "Go on, get in the other side. We got a bank to visit." I did as I was told and strapped myself in. Dad revved up the car and speedily reversed, making me squeal. He laughed as he turned the car around and soon we were on the roads of Gotham Town, heading into the front of the town centre, where the bank was in the middle of nowhere. Bit of a foolish place to have bank. He parked outside and when the car stopped, I started to get out, but dad stopped me by waggling his finger at me. "Ah-da-da-da, wait a second, not so fast, Shaylee," Dad said.

"What's wrong?"

"Shush, shush…you _always _have to _look_ before you make the next move, Shay, that's _very _important."

"Oh right."

"Do you see any funny business out your window? Like any cops or somebody important like that?"

I quickly look out of my window, examining closely. The street was almost empty apart from a few people standing around.

"Nope. I don't see anything like that," I said.

"Marvellous. _Now _we can go." We both headed out the car and dad locked it behind him. I ran over to him and he gestured me to follow him. We walked up to the bank's entrance, where he stopped me in my tracks and turned to face me. I looked up at him, beaming, knowing there was going to be action ahead. Dad lowered his voice and talked in an almost excited tone. "Now, Shaylee, you stay here for me. I'll just go in, get us some uh, _dinner money_." I snickered and put my hand over my mouth to stop the giggles and dad couldn't help chuckling with me. "Oh and uh…you might want to stay on your toes because ya never know who's gonna come round the corner."

"Yes, dad."

"There's a good girl. Now _behave _yourself." Dad stood up and popped his collar like he was about to do business. "Well, behave for the _most part_."

"I will. You sure you'll be okay, dad? I don't want…"

"Honey, I've done this so many times. The fools in there are _so old_ they don't ever suspect a thing. See ya in a minute and be ready for when I come out because we'll need to make a run for it."

With that, dad made his way in, taking his time with step he took. I leaned against the wall next to the door and kept an eye for trouble. I fought hard not to have a cigarette at that moment, but I couldn't let anything distract me. The bank was well away from the other stores down the street, so I didn't have to look at many people.

That was, until a group of three older guys came strolling down the street, chatting amongst themselves. One of them, who had a red cap on, was smoking a line of marijuana which made my stomach turn. The other two were right behind him, almost like he was a leader. I stared at them as they 'swaggered' down the street, until one of the boys took a glance at me as they were quite close to me. I didn't recognise him at all, but he seemed to instantly know who I was, as his mouth opened until they were the same size of his eyes. I saw him grin and then tap on the guy with cap's shoulder, who darted around. I heard them whispering amongst themselves in a huddle. They thought they were keeping their voices down, but little did they know I could hear every word.

"Oh my god, pal, look, it's her, the little psycho chick from Gotham Middle School."

"Is that _her_?" the guy with the cap said.

"Yeah, dude, it's her," he whispered back. "That's Shaylee Napier, that's the crazy bitch who burnt down a class and then attacked a kid."

"No way!" the other guy exclaimed.

"The one that bullies my sister?"

My eyes widened as I looked at him in horror. I don't bully _anyone_.

"Yeah, that's her, I know it's her, she hangs around with my little brother. She was on the news yesterday, too."

The guy with the cap, who I now recognised as Kayley Lyons's older brother, Darren, then glared at me, before turning back to his friends. The guy who had recognised me looked an awful lot like Jason, so he was obviously Jason's older brother, someone who I was aware of. Jason told me they don't get on, but I knew Kayley was close with her brother. I didn't let that put me off though. I continued to observe them gossiping about me, folding my arms as they did so.

"Is that definitely her?" Darren asked.

"Yeah, I know it's her," Jason's brother said. "I've seen her before."

Darren suddenly stormed over to me, until he was high above me, followed closely by his two friends. I stared up at him, still folding my arms. His attempt to be intimidating was pathetic, he didn't scare me at all. I was used to people being in my face anyway. This was all very coincidental that I happened to be facing Kayley's brother right there at that moment. What was he even doing up and about that early in the morning anyway?

"You that Shaylee Napier?" he asked, sharply, flicking his wed away to one side.

"Yeah," I said, like it was obvious.

"So you're that one who threatened my sister, are ya?"

"I never threatened her, pal, get your facts right."

"Ooh-hoo-hoo…someone thinks they're big, don't they?"

"Yeah, you."

"You think you're so tough, little girl, huh?" Darren said, getting even closer to my face.

That was all it took to set me off. The anger came so quickly that it almost felt natural.

"Get out of my face, dickhead!" I yelled at him.

"What you gonna do, you little bitch?"

I pushed him hard, making him lurch backwards but he didn't fall. His two friends started laughing, just infuriating me even more.

"Fuck off!" I shouted.

"You think I'm gonna just do one after you threatened my sister, you silly cow!"

"Sill cow, am I?" I taunted, pushing him again. That startled him.

"Hey, don't push him, you little bitch!" Jason's brother said, yanking me by my coat sleeve.

I sharply pulled away from him, to only be thrown down on the floor by the other guy. I quickly stood up again, ready to hit him in his hideous face, but Darren was soon in my face again, making we walk backwards into the wall.

"You gonna hit a girl, are you?" I scolded at him.

"No, of course I'm not, I'm not that _low_, unlike you."

"Unlike me?!" I laughed mockingly. "You don't even _know_ me!"

"I know what you did to my sister! She told me! She said you pushed her and grabbed her by the hair and was screaming in her face!"

"Maybe I did, but, she pushed me to do it!"

Darren then suddenly grabbed me by the collar, but I soon struggled out of his grasp and pushed him again.

"She _pushed _you do it?! What a load of bullshit!"

"It's _not _bullshit! Maybe you, big man, should tell your sister not to lie about something like _hearing voices _when some people actually can! Someone like me for example!"

"Don't give me that shit, little girl!"

"Little girl? Who'd you think you're talking to?!"

"Shut up!"

"No, _fuck off_! No, I won't shut up. You can't tell me to, you don't know me! You don't know what's going on in my head, in my _life_, do you?!"

"Yeah, you really are fucked up in the head, aren't you?"

I paused, glaring at him. I started to see red.

"What did you say?" I snapped.

"I said you're fucked up in the head. Burning down a classroom…"

I screamed deafeningly and punched Darren in the face, making him fall backwards, where one of his friends caught him. The guy who wasn't Jason's brother went to his aid, while Jason's brother got into my face, about to say something. There was no way he was going to get a word in edgeways.

"Get _away _from me!" I snarled. He backed away as I continued to scowl at him. Darren managed to get to his feet and I folded my arms and raised my eyebrows at him.

"Just hit her, Darren!" the other guy said.

"Yeah, come on, asshole!" I shouted.

Darren stormed over where I punched him again and then kicked him hard until he was on the floor again. Jason's brother pinned me up against the wall, but he was stronger than Darren, and I struggled to escape this time.

"Are you actually crazy?" he sneered.

"_No_!" I roared.

"You need serious help."

"Get the _fuck off _me!"

"Don't know why my brother hangs around with a dirty little shit like you."

"A _what_?! Fuck you, you don't _know me_! At least your brother isn't a dick like you!"

Right at that moment, I heard a gun load. The boy holding me against the wall looked alarmed and instantly let me go as he backed away. The three boys looked startled as they looked in the same direction. I turned to see dad standing outside the bank entrance, pointing a gun at the three boys. I was so relieved he'd arrived just in time, looking highly frightening. His face was one of utter disgust, as he slowly sauntered over, still clutching the gun in his hand.

"Oh, hi, daddy," I beamed, as he walked over.

"Oh, shit," Darren said under his breath.

"Oh shit, indeed, young man," Dad said, raucously.

He came over to me, but he didn't comfort me. I knew this was a test of my strength. I looked around to make sure no one would spot us, but conveniently no one came around.

I was shaking my head at dad. "Unbelievable, daddy. Think it's okay to hurt me."

Dad addressed the group of boys. "So, you little boys think it's acceptable to attack my daughter, do you?"

"Actually, pal, she attacked us first," Darren mumbled.

"Oh be quiet," Dad snapped. I smirked as I saw dad approach them like a demonic figure. "Look at me, the three of you. Look at me! What do you think you're doing, huh?!"

"We…"

"Ah-da-da-da, shush." By now dad was up in their faces, and they weren't looking so tough anymore. Dad suddenly grabbed Darren by the collar, as the other two backed away, nervously. I couldn't help but giggle under my breath. "So what exactly did she do that was so unbelievable, huh?" Dad dug the gun into Darren's head. He then addressed me, as he turned around, dragging Darren with him. "What did they do, baby girl, hmm?"

"They tried to threaten me, dad," I replied, sweetly. "They had me pinned up against the wall. I fought them back but they carried on."

"Oh, well…we can't have _that _now, can we?"

He shot his head back at Darren.

"Let me go, you freak!" he cried.

"Freak?" Dad burst into laughter. "I'm a freak for defending my daughter now, am I?"

"She's just the same as _you_! No wonder she's…"

"And I wouldn't want her any other way. Now listen pal." His voice suddenly turned cold and malicious. He was glaring at Darren, not taking his eyes off of his. He was giving him a masterclass in how to be_ really _intimidating. But dad was more than that. He was truly terrifying, even scaring me a little, but I couldn't help but smile as he defended me. "If I catch you…or if she tells me you come _anywhere near _her again…then I won't just keep this loaded. It will _fire_. You understand me?" Darren didn't answer. "I said _do you understand me_?!" Dad shouted.

"Yes, yes, I understand!" Darren cried, pathetically.

"_Good_." Dad let him go but kicked him to the ground and spat on him before he pointed his gun at the other two. "Now run away, little boys, before I deck ya brains out!"

They didn't have to be told twice. Like the little boys they truly were, they scampered off down the street until they reached the end, away from the town centre. Dad then randomly let off a gun shot, making me jump a mile. He then turned to me, who was rubbing my neck as the guy had pinned my hard by my collar.

"Are you okay, princess?" he asked, rubbing my arm.

"Yes, dad, I'm fine," I answered, putting my hands to my head. "God, they annoyed the _crap _out of me though."

"Make you angry?"

"God yeah. That was Kayley's brother, thinks he's the big man, trying to call me a freak and stuff about what happened on Thursday _just _because Kayley was in the room when it happened. I said to him she's the reason it happened! In fact, she's the reason I got _expelled_!"

"Well, don't worry about him anymore, he's not bothering you now. Silly little boy."

"God help my future boyfriends. Did you get the money, dad?"

"Of course I did. I was lucky because there was a lot of people in there, too distracted to notice me nicking a couple of dollars. Anyway, we better get moving before someone notices, honey. Plus, I just fired a gun in broad daylight, better make a move before the cops coming investigating."

He grabbed my hand and we rushed back to the car, and we were soon dashing down the streets again. The whole journey I was slumped in my seat with my hands over my head. I managed to quickly contain myself before we arrived at the clothes store, like dad had planned.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, as we pulled up in the car park.

"I'm fine, dad, really," I replied, reassuringly.

"Okay, check before you move anywhere."

I did so, and before I knew it we were in the store. As we entered, dad leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Get anything you want," he said, craftily. "There's no cameras in here because it's just a cheap charity store. I'll distract the store owner. Use your head. Don't get anything too big."

I nodded and I had a good look around. I was immediately attracted to the jewellery section, which I quietly headed to while dad went over to the counter. Luckily, the store was so shit that no one else was in there, plus it was early in the morning. I knew dad would use this to an advantage.

As dad talked to him, getting him deep into conversation, I looked carefully at what I wanted. There was something that immediately caught my eye: gorgeous black hoop earrings that had bats dangling from the bottom. I took them off the rail and admired them for a while, tracing them carefully. I firstly checked around every corner to make sure no one could see me, including the store owner and the entrance to see if no one could spot me. When the coast was clear, I quickly dug it into my coat pocket, turning my back as I did it. I was very careful but also sharp. Once I'd done it, I casually strolled over to dad at the counter, who was still talking to the shop assistant. I'd made sure I'd buttoned my pocket.

"Ah, okay, darling?" Dad greeted, putting his arm around me.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What were you looking at?"

"Oh, just the jewellery over there. All really pretty."

"Find anything you fancy?"

"Uhh…no, not really." I couldn't help but grin, but dad continued to smile down at me. "Not much."

"Ahh, okay."

"This one yours, is she?" the man on the counter asked, rather stupidly.

"Yeah, this is my daughter," Dad said, proudly. "Fourteen next month."

"Oh you can definitely tell she's yours. Same eyes."

"Yeah, I'm glad I got his and not my mom's," I said. "Hers were blue, they just wouldn't match me."

"Anyway, thanks, dude," Dad said, as he began to turn away.

"Oh we _going _now?" I asked.

"Why yes, you said you didn't see anything you fancied, so we might as well go now."

"Oh, okay, daddy."

He winked at me, making me giggle.

"Thanks for visiting!" the guy called waving.

"A pleasure to come!" I called back.

As soon as we were out of there, dad grabbed my hand and we ran back to the stolen car, laughing all the way. My mood had instantly changed and it was so wonderful. Running through the streets like a madwoman, feeling the breeze…I felt freedom. I felt it even more now I knew I wasn't in the clutches of school.

Once we were back in the car and strapped in, dad turned to me before turning on the engine.

"_So_…did you get anything?" he asked, smirking.

"Yep!" I replied, full of joy. I got the earrings out of my pocket and rattled them in his face. "Look, look, look!" I laughed. "I got this without getting caught!"

"Wow, baby!" Dad laughed. "You really are a natural. Didn't notice a _thing_. But, why earrings? You don't even have your ears pierced."

My smile faded as I realised my idiocy. "Oh no!" I cried, putting my face in my hands. "Oh bollocks!"

Dad was laughing uncontrollably. "Don't worry about it, ya silly billy!" he cackled. "You still _got it_, didn't you?!"

"Well, yeah," I replied, "but, still, I guess I got too excited and forgot about the fact I don't have my ears pierced."

"Ah, well, just for that, I'll let you have them pierced. For your birthday."

I gasped as dad started up the engine. I was grinning widely at him.

"Really, will you?!" I exclaimed.

"I don't see why not. You're not in school anymore so they can't nag you about it."

"Thank you, dad! But I thought you were giving me a phone."

"I am, but you can have that as an extra for showing daddy just how tough you are." He affectionately pinched my cheek.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome, princess. Now, let's go home. I'm starving. Gotta eat something before I meet up with the guys."

"Can I come?"

Dad chuckled. "No, honey."

"But why?"

"Hey, you've had your time today. Besides, it's too dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt. You know what happened, last night, remember? All sorts of ugly can happen if I get frustrated. Maybe when you're older, Shay, but even then, you'll probably be wanting to do stuff by yourself. Oh and by the way, I can't be there all the time when you nick something, you know. You're gonna have to be sneaky if you wanna do that yourself. You were lucky today that no one was in there, but I _knew _there wouldn't be. I'd made it easy for ya."

He started reversing out of the car park and he drove back to that alleyway where we first discovered the car in minutes flat. Once we'd walked home, I put those earrings in my drawer for safe keeping, and dad made us some lunch before heading out again.

Even though that morning had that crazy little incident with Kayley's brother and that, I still loved it. Even though I was angry, I just _loved _witnessing dad showing people their true colours, showing how scary he really could be. I was lucky he was like that, because I knew he could defend both me and him.

Darren Lyons never did bother with me after that day, in fact I never saw him again. I never saw Kayley again either. I was so glad to see the back of them and school all together. I was missing my friends as it was, but I was even missing Chelsea, but I'd miss art classes more than anything else.

The next weekend, I did finally get a chance to meet up with Chase at his house. He was very good with me, trying his best to understand my point of view about what happened at school and stuff. I told him all about how I was going to move forward and defend myself more. I even told him I'd stolen some things, but he didn't seem to mind. He himself had stolen before then, but he didn't dare tell his mom. Although he did seem concerned about me, asking me if I needed to seek anger management or something. I calmly as possible stated I couldn't be doing with going through _that _process. We regularly met up, mostly spending Friday nights together, now I didn't go to school anymore.

Dad didn't even bother with trying to get me into a new school, as the only other option was Little Hill, and I was _not _going there again. We agreed they wouldn't let me in anyway because of my reputation at both LHE and GMS.

Dad and I continued out little outings on weekends, where we mostly went through the same process. One Saturday he even let me get some money with him, although he wouldn't let me carry it, in case we got caught and I'd get the blame. I got better at it too, although I didn't have to yield a gun at anyone most days, dad did most of that stuff. It was almost like we were slowly becoming partners in crime, like he was my trainer. He wasn't training me to be a criminal, he was training me to defend myself and to learn how to provide for myself. And I _loved _it.

My fourteenth birthday came around in the April, and dad, as promised, bought me my very own cell phone. This time he insisted he's bought it and not stolen it, which I found hard to believe but I just went with it anyway. The first thing I did was ring Chase, and we arranged for me, the boys and Chelsea to meet up that afternoon once I'd eaten lunch with dad (Chelsea had now gotten friendly with them too, having a massive crush on Tom).

The guys from the City came down to the town to see me and we all hung around at the park, where I showed everyone my new phone. We quickly exchanged numbers, and Chelsea even tried her first cigarette. Alex and Tom had started smoking weed, but I didn't dare try some. I wasn't an idiot, I _knew _it'd mess with my head and just worsen my schizophrenia. They called me a pussy but I just ignored them, I wasn't smoking it just for their sake. I found it crazy how they'd started smoking it already, as they were only fifteen. Chase refused it as well, but he continued to smoke cigarettes regularly. We all got a McDonald's for dinner, which they all paid for me as a treat. We sat outside in the warm April breeze as I munched happily with my best friends.

"So what else you got for your birthday, Shay?" Tom asked.

"Not much, really. Apart from this phone and the pens Chase got me, I didn't get much else. My dad's taking me to get my ears pierced tomorrow, which he promised me two birthdays ago, but never mind."

"My mom won't let me have mine done, either!" Chelsea complained. "If she thinks I'm gonna be plain and proper I ain't, I just ain't."

"You had a good day, anyway?" Jason asked me.

"Oh yeah. Just nice to see you guys again."

"How's it been missing school?" Matty asked.

"It's been bliss," I replied. "I hated it _so_ much after you guys had gone."

"The middle school was _so much better_," said Alex. "I hate high school, it's so stressful."

"My dad said I won't be accepted into anywhere else because of what I did," I said.

"He's right," Chase said. "But you don't care, do you?"

"No, I have better things to do."

"Mrs. Quaid didn't half give us a lecture about it," Chelsea explained.

"So wish I saw it," said Chris.

"Did you tell them about what happened with Darren Lyons last month, Shaylee?" Chase laughed.

"Oh, yeah! You know that Darren Lyons?"

"Who, the guy who thinks he's the big man?" Chris said, making all the boys laugh.

"Yeah, Kayley Lyons's brother. He came up to me last month, while I was out with my dad at the bank he and his friends, one of them was your brother Jason, they just started threatening me after what I did to Kayley and shit, but I told him that Kayley was the one who lies about stuff and she pushed me to it! Well my dad came and sorted them out anyway, you should've seen their faces. Guy needs to realise his sister is an attention seeker."

"That Kayley is such an annoying twat," Chelsea said. "Thinks every guy is after her, when there really not."

"Oh, I would," Alex laughed, making them all chuckle in unison.

"Ew, Alex, you're such a pervert," Chelsea said, playfully.

"Ah, shut it, ya slut."

Chelsea and I both did our high-pitched girly giggles.

Once we'd finished and it was getting dark, we all headed back to park again, where they all started drinking. I had so much fun with them, messing around. I felt so relaxed and happy with them all, I didn't need to get drunk to have such a laugh with them. Chase and I were the only ones who didn't get drunk, in fact. Chase drank, but he didn't get pissed. It got to the point where they were so drunk they didn't know where they were all standing. Chelsea and Tom ended up eating each other's faces off in front of us all, making all the lads jeer and wolf-whistle while I just doubled up with laughter.

Once it got to the end of the night, around 10:30pm, people started to fumble off back home, to the bus station.

Well, that's what I thought.

"Hey, Shaylee!" Alex called in his overly-slurred voice. This was just as we were leaving the park, and I was standing close to Chase.

"What, dickhead?" I replied.

"You want me to walk you home?" he asked, tripping over his feet.

"Dude, I'll walk her home, it's not far," Chase said, helping him up. "Besides, you're pissed, you can't walk her. You need to follow the others back, if it's even possible!"

"I ain't pissed, Chase!" he shouted.

"Shhh! Shut up, man!" Chase laughed.

"Shhhhh!" Alex repeated. "Come _on_, let me take ya home and then I'll follow them back!"

"Alex, you can't."

"Oh, leave him be," I laughed, as I took Alex's hand. Chase looked slightly disappointed. "Come on, we'll all walk together and then you can walk him to bus station because he sure as hell won't get there safe by himself!"

"You _heard _the girl!" Alex shouted in his drunken state.

"Shush, man!" Chase chuckled. He then looked at me, who gave him puppy eyes. "Oh, alright then," he said, reluctantly.

"Come on then."

We all walked back to my street, with Chase and I making sure Alex stayed upright. We eventually arrived at the end of my street.

"Okay, I'll be okay from here," I said.

"We still have a _long way to go_!" Alex cried.

"Shhh! I know, but I'll be fine."

"You know what? I'm going to order a taxi for him," Chase said. "There's no way I'm walking him to the bus station in this state."

"Do you have the money?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah." Chase was already dialling a number on his phone and walked away down the pavement, putting his hand to his ear and the phone to the other. I carried Alex around the corner away from Chase, where I made him stand upright by the wall. He slumped onto me, making me laugh.

"Alex, come on, stand up straight," I giggled, lifting him up. I desperately tried to keep my voice down.

"I _glad_…" Alex began, loudly.

"Shhh!"

"Sorry," Alex lowered his voice rapidly. "I'm _glad you_….have had a good birthday."

"Oh well thank _you _for making it so good."

I smiled at him, and he gave me a wide, animated grin back. He then was staring at my lips with his dreary eyes.

All of sudden, out of the blue, Alex roughly pulled me closer to him and harshly kissed me on my lips. I let out a muffled scream into his face as I sharply pulled away, glaring at him. For some reason, he started laughing.

"What are you _doing_?" I hissed.

"What? I thought that's what you wanted," he slurred.

"What? What, no! No that's not what I wanted!"

"Hey, come on Shaylee…" He tried to pull me in again, but I stood away from him, avoiding his grasp.

"No, fuck off!" I cried, my voice starting to tremble.

"Aw, come on, Shaylee, why else would you pull me round a corner…."

"To calm you down, you asshole! Why would you _do that _to me?!"

I felt a tear rolling, so I immediately turned away. Chase then came round the corner, as Alex stayed wobbling against the wall.

"Right the taxi's on its way," he said. "Took me ages to…" That's when he noticed me crying. He came and stood next me, trying to get me to show my face. "Shaylee? Shaylee, are you crying?"

"_No_!"

"What's wrong?"

I inhaled deeply as I furiously wiped my black eyeliner tears away and looked away from Chase. I pointed back at an embarrassed Alex.

"Don't let him come near me!" I whimpered. "Just, just…I want to go home. Just let me go home!"

"Alex, what did you do?"

"Don't ask him! Just…ahhh! You've made me look like a twat, Alex! Why would you _do that_?!"

"Shaylee…" Chase said. "Calm down, tell me…"

"I'll…I'll ring you tomorrow, just let me go home, please!"

He nodded and let me go, and I started running down the street in my high-heeled boots, still with tears rolling down my cheeks, which I desperately tried to flick away. I heard Chase's yells at Alex get fainter as I ran back into my flat, slamming the door behind me. I went straight into my room and sobbed into my pillow, helplessly.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe one of my closest friends had took advantage of me like that and just ruined my entire day.

Dad soon kicked my door down upon hearing my cries, and immediately came rushing over to me, sitting next to me on my bed, shaking my shoulders, gently.

"Shaylee!" he said, softly. "Shaylee, baby, what's wrong? Come on, I'm here…"

I latched myself onto him and sobbed into his chest and he shushed me, stroking my hair.

"Oh, dad…" I whined.

"What's happened, sweetheart? Come on, come on, tell daddy. Look at me. Look at me, come on." I did do, and he wiped my tears for me. "Shhh, calm down. What's happened? I thought you were going to have a lovely night…"

"I _was_…"

"Then why are you crying? It breaks me to see you like this, sweetie. Come on, come on….tell me."

"Dad, can I…can I tell you tomorrow? I don't really want to talk about it." Dad sighed and looked at me with a concerned expression. "Please, dad. I need…I need to sleep on it."

"Okay, okay," Dad said, gently, as I buried my head back into his chest. "Shhh. Quiet down now. Don't want you to go to sleep all hysterical now, do we?"

I sniffled as he continued to calm me down, petting me like I was a kitten. It worked, though. My crying made me tired out, and I almost fell asleep in dad's arms. He tucked me in and kissed my forehead before leaving me to sleep.

The guilt that I felt when he left the room was enormous. I knew now he was going to worry all night and not sleep. I didn't get a good sleep last night, I just couldn't stop thinking about what Alex had done.

Chase was going to go mad at him.

Remember how I said I had a little crush on Chase? Well that grew even bigger after that night. It was strange, because I knew that Chase had a crush on me, I just _knew _it, but I knew how conscious dad was about me and boys, especially now as I was a teenager. I guess that's why I chickened out of telling him about what had happened. I felt so pathetic about sobbing over it, but I couldn't help myself.

But I guess that was the downside of being free. I wasn't in a safe environment anymore. _Anyone_ could take advantage of me. I knew I wasn't safe, I liked to think I could take on the world now I had freedom.

I knew I was fucking crazy. But it didn't matter. I was free.


	11. Love And Evil

_**This chapter is very fluffy, just to warn readers who wince at corniness...too bad ;) Contains scenes of mental distress.**_

_**Hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Love &amp; Evil**

I seemed to be getting up earlier and earlier as the days went by. I was so used to dad waking me up early to start our little outings, that it became natural for me to wake up around 8:30 or 9am.

I got up especially early the following morning as I had a horrific sleep. My tears were still rolling as I tried to settle down, but even when they eventually wore off, I was still stirring for hours.

The thought of Alex kissing me in his drunken state kept on plaguing my mind all night. Then I thought about Chase yelling at Alex. I just knew their friendship had been broken because Alex took advantage of me and of course Chase was going to hate that. Even when Alex had made a 'light-hearted' joke about me before, Chase would immediately defend me. I would always be behind Chase when he got into an argument, particularly when his dad dared to try and get back into contact with him.

We always had each other's backs.

But I'd broken a friendship that night, I just _knew _it.

I woke up just after 9 o'clock and I was expecting dad to have already left the flat. Slipping on my purple dressing gown and slippers, I tiredly wandered into the sitting room and brushed my hair in front of mom's dressing table mirror. My hair had recently been dyed black again, which Julia did for me. This shade of black was the colour of ravens and was so dark that it almost matched the colour of the night sky at midnight in Gotham City. Once I'd forcefully brushed my hair into shape, I caressed it to make it look perfect. That was always something I had an obsession about, I guess I got that from mom. Well, the _early _mom, I mean. She always used to stylise her hair but for some reason she suddenly didn't care about her appearance at all as I grew up in my childhood. Dad certainly didn't care about his hair (he dyed it _green _for goodness sake), although, at that time, he'd recently been backcombing it and making sure it was always out of his face.

I then started to slump my way into the bathroom for a relaxing shower to take my mind off things, but I froze in my tracks when I heard muttering coming from the kitchen. I heard a chair scrape against the kitchen floor, followed by a series of frustrated groans.

"Dad?" I said, quietly.

With my dressing gown floating behind me, I peered through the kitchen door, where dad had taken a seat by the kitchen table. I held my breath when I saw him fidgeting with a gun in his hand and his head staring down at his lap, inhaling heavy breaths. The atmosphere in the room was horribly negative.

I nervously stepped in and quietly shut the door, leaning against it and looking hopefully at dad.

"Morning, dad," I greeted, attempting to sound cheerful.

He slowly lifted his head, tenderly rubbing his eyes with his free arm.

"Morning, Shaylee," he sighed.

I didn't even need to ask him how he was, so I changed the subject.

"Why aren't you up and out already, dad?" I asked.

"Uhh…just…well…" he muttered.

"What?"

"Well…we're going to get your ears pierced today, aren't we? Thought we'd have uh…a little day together today."

I couldn't help but grin broadly, I'd completely forgotten about that.

"Oh yeah!" I exclaimed. "When are we going?"

"Uhh…when does the place open? The jewellery place in the City?"

"I don't know."

"Ahh…we'll go after lunch." He paused as he pulled the other chair backwards, patting the seat, but still gripping the gun in his other hand. "Come sit down," he said, motioning me with his arm. I did exactly as he said, but didn't realise I was curiosuly staring at the gun in his hand as I took a seat. "Something the matter, sweetie?" Dad asked.

I darted my head up at him, as he raised his eyebrows, questionably.

"No," I spluttered, fumbling with my hands. "No…nothing."

"Is it the gun?" Dad asked in an almost mocking tone of voice.

"No, no…it's…"

"Shhh. Now, Shaylee. I want to know why you were so upset last night. I hate seeing you like that. So…_helpless _and…and, uhh…"

"Weak?"

"Oh no, no, no…" Dad took my hand. "I mean…like…_beaten down_…someone _breaking _you when I know how tough you really are. It's rare you act like that. So…am I gonna have to get my friends on someone, hmm? Am I gonna have to shoot someone?"

"No, dad, it's…it's not even that serious. I overreacted."

"I _won't _believe a word of it."

"Dad…"

"Tell me."

His voice became sharp, making me immediately begin to explain.

"Well…Alex tried to…" I began.

"Alex?"

"My friend….well…_ex friend _now."

"Ah, okay. Yes? What did he do, huh?"

"He…tried to kiss me."

Dad stared at me, but he didn't let go of my hand.

"I see," he said. His voice was dangerously composed.

"He was drunk and he…tried to kiss me and I pulled away…I just…it just shocked me a little, that's all." Dad nodded his head, slowly. "I just felt like he used me…took advantage of me. I thought he'd never do something like that."

Dad huffed and shook his head. I could see the danger in his eyes. I composed myself as I knew this was the calm before the storm.

"What a little _bastard_," Dad hissed. "Son of a _bitch_. You know what? You're very wise for pulling away, for rejecting him. Has he acted like that before, Shay?"

"N-No…he'd make comments about my appearance and stuff but I always took it as a joke."

"Sounds like one of those perverted little idiots…"

"He _is_, dad. He's nothing more than a jerk."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Uhh…what do you mean?"

"Did…he…_hurt you_?"

"Not physically, no."

"But emotionally?"

"Well, yeah."

Dad shook his head again. He suddenly rose from his seat and started hastily pacing up and down the room, keeping his gun firmly in his hand.

"No…" he muttered. "No, no, _no_."

"Dad…dad, please, just sit down…don't get angry, dad, please, he's not worth it."

"I'm _okay_, Shaylee." He sighed heavily and stopped in his tracks, staring at the wall ahead of him. "No. I _can't _have people breaking you."

"What do you mean?"

"Shay, you _know _what I mean. You know how masterful you're getting at defending yourself. You're getting _so good_ at it. I can't have people like _him_…ruining it."

"I know, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have let him upset me…I _know _I should have fought back…"

Dad whirled around when he saw me rise from my seat.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, gently, gesturing me to calm down with his hands. "Don't worry. I'm not viewing this as _bad _thing."

"What? Dad, I don't know what you're talking about."

With his shoulders hunched, he walked over to me, until he was towering above me with his predatory eyes. I gripped the chair with my hand as he looked down at me, a smirk beginning to form on his lips. My heart was pounding.

"I had a…_long _think about it last night, precious," Dad whispered in his dangerous tone that intrigued me to listen. "I was thinking…you know…I _knew _it was going to be something to do with a boy…"

"Dad…"

"Shush, shush, shush, listen to daddy. Everyone has a _weakness_, right? Maybe your weakness…and by tha_t_, I mean, something that, ah, _breaks_ you…maybe that things _is _boys." I gazed at him, curiously. "You _always _spend time with Chase….and there's nothing wrong with that…but let's say…I had Chase in my grip…"

"What?"

"Shhh. I had him in my grip…and I had a gun to his head. Beside me was a pile of _all _the valuables you could ever need in order to _live _that I'd stolen for you, but imagine that at that moment in time you are _starving _and _broke_. Let's say I said to you…'Right, Shaylee, it's either Chase _dies_ or you have everything you need to survive.' What would you do?"

I sighed shakily. "I couldn't let you kill Chase…I…I'd choose to let Chase live."

"Ah-ha! You see?!" Dad cried, triumphantly. "I _told _you boys were your weakness!"

"That's not true, dad."

"Oh yes it is. If I had one of your guy friends at gunpoint because they were, ah, _getting in my way_, you'd _beg _me to let them free! You would!"

Dad started sniggering, but this time, I wasn't amused.

"Dad, no! No I wouldn't. It's not like that!"

"Hmm…oh we'll see, _we'll _see…" Dad nodded his head.

"Okay then, dad. If everyone had a weakness, then what's yours?" That made him speechless. I folded my arms and looked at him, expectantly, but no words could come out of his mouth. He began to stutter, as he gazed around, almost like he was trying to find someone who would give him an answer. "Don't you have one, dad?" I asked.

"I think you're getting too clever for your own good," he finally managed to mumble.

"That's not answering my question."

Dad sighed as he skilfully twirled the gun in his hand. He glanced upwards, pretending to think.

"Well, Shaylee…what do _you_ think it is?" he asked, quietly.

I thought hard for a few moments. I closed my eyes and flashbacked to the day mom was shot. The thought of dad yelling my name flooded my mind. Dad held me as a ten year old as he pointed a gun at a cop…but…he didn't shoot him. He got Harleen to beat him up. If I wasn't there, he would have definitely shot him.

I opened my eyes and looked up at dad, innocently.

"Me?" I squeaked.

Dad didn't say anything, instead he just smiled proudly and ruffled my hair until it looked like I'd been dragged through a bush. I straightened it as dad took a seat again, running his free hand through his frizzy hair. There was an awkward silence as we just glanced at each other.

Finally, dad said softly, "Shay?"

I lifted my head up at him. "Yeah?"

"If anything like that happens again, you _can't _let a man take advantage of you. In fact…in a _way_…maybe in the future…you could take advantage of _men_. But don't let them break you. Corrupt you. I know _I _don't let people break me. I _can't_. I just _can't _do it. My mind holds me back from people getting the better of your old man. There's something…something _in _me that won't let me feel _anything_ for _anyone_…apart from you, of course, darling. I've been roaming around that city witnessing an endless amount of civilians who pathetically whine and moan in my face while I have them in my hands, _begging _for me to spare their lives…or, in some cases…_other people's _lives."

"And you don't?"

"Of course not. Something I've learnt, baby…in someone's last moments…they show you who they really are, and if _all _of them act like wretched little fools in their last moments, it shows how weak the people in this place really are. It shows…that _I_…have the upper hand. That's what I like. Do you have that, too, Shaylee? Do you feel _any_ sympathy for people, hmm?"

"Not a lot of people, dad. Only Chase and some of my friends and you, obviously. Most people I don't sympathise with and don't care about, because, well…most of them have treated me like shit. I mean, why should I care?"

"Exactly. That's how I've been treated my _whole_ life. Like a piece of shit. By everyone. By my father especially, even my mother sometimes…by teachers, by the cops, by doctors…uh, the list goes _on_. Even Larry and Harleen have treated me like nothing. The only times I've ever been truly happy is with you. Even your mother didn't make me feel happy _all _the time. She did when we first met, but then she got all clingy and started drinking that stuff! You're a bit clingy, too, but…I don't seem to mind that. You remind me of her sometimes. The good her. So, when I say…uhh, come 'ere, my darling." I walked over to him and he grinned widely at me, making me do just the same. "Look at me. When I say this to you, _believe _me. You don't need _anyone_ to take advantage of you because you can take on _anybody_. Look what you've done so far, hmm? I mean, you shot our _dog_…mind you, that was years ago, but…you burnt down a classroom, well, kinda…you've stolen, _and_ you took on some of those boys the other week, didn't ya? I've even seen you hold a _gun_ in someone's face. And _most _of the time you did it without me there. The only thing that concerns me is that you don't get hurt, physically _or _emotionally. But more emotionally. Oh, and that you're _not _taken away from me. I know most of the time your mind goes _crazy _and you can't help it when these things happen, but…"

"That's what happens with you, too."

"I know…but recently…I feel like it's, uh…just _me_ deciding to do these things. Of course my mind guides me and sets me off, but I'm starting to feel like…uh, I don't know…like, apart from you, I don't care about _anything_ anymore."

"I don't blame you, really, dad. I'm starting to feel the same way. After last night I know I can't even trust my friends. I can only trust you and Chase and that's it."

Dad chuckled quietly. "I know you're, uh, quite _fond _of Chase, but don't get _too_ close, sweetheart. We boys, we like to, ah…well not _intentionally_, but we tend to lead girls _on_. We love a damsel in distress." He winked at me, cheekily. "I should know."

"Chase isn't like that, dad."

"If you say so. I'm just giving you a little warning though. Do what you want as long you follow the two golden rules: don't get hurt and don't let anyone break you. Fight until the end, otherwise _no one_ will. Do you understand, baby?"

"Perfectly, dad."

Dad laughed. "That's my good girl." He leaned closer and kissed my forehead, making me giggle like an idiot. "Now, darlin', enough of this _talking_, let's get a _move on_. D'ya wanna eat before we scamper off?"

"I'm starving."

"Ah, right, well, I got some ready meals in the refrigerator. Pasta. Fancy that?"

"Aw, yes please."

"Consider it done."

"Right, well, I'll go in the shower while you make it then, dad."

Dad suddenly stood up and tensely grabbed my arms. I gasped in surprise, and felt myself shaking when I realised the gun was still in his grip.

"No!" Dad shouted.

"Wha-What? Dad, you're _hurting _me!"

Dad immediately let go of my arms as worry filled his face.

"I-I'm sorry, honey," he said, as he gently rubbed one of my arms. He looked overwhelmed with himself as he shook his head, vigorously. "I…I didn't mean…"

"I'm fine. Why aren't I allowed to go in the shower?"

"Alright, just let me _do _something in there first, okay?"

"What?"

"Just stay in your room and I'll say when it's okay to go in the bathroom, okay?"

"Uhh…o-okay."

Dad finally put his gun down on the table and made his way out of the kitchen and instantly locked himself in the bathroom. I sneakily tiptoed outside the bathroom door to listen to what he was doing. I only heard him muttering, but I didn't hear clattering of any kind. The tap ran harshly and something dropped inside, which was followed by complete silence. The shower curtains opened and closed again. That's when I quickly made my way to my bedroom. I silently sat on my bed until dad popped his head around my door.

"All done now, honey," he said.

"Okay," I replied. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"What were you doing in there?"

"Just, uh…tidying up, of course."

"I could have done that, you know."

"Shaylee, I was just getting rid of something, okay?"

A sharp tone gripped his voice, so I didn't dare answer back.

"Okay, dad."

He went back into the kitchen after that and I heard him start to make the meal, even though it was 9:40 in the morning, but I didn't care. I was cautious stepping into the bathroom, but nothing stood out as being odd or out of place. Of course, my empty black hair dye bottle was still by the sink, and the ancient face-paint pots were still in the shower. I didn't know why we still kept them, but I didn't dare throw them away. I knew dad was using them for _something_, but I found myself too scared to ask why. I'd never seen it on him, strangely enough.

After we'd eaten that morning, dad took me out to the City to have my ears pierced at the jewellery store, of course stealing a car to get there. Dad went dressed casually for some reason, but I still tied my hair in dangly pigtails and dressed in my gothic shirt and short skirt. Tom got me some awesome knee-high heeled boots for my birthday, so I strapped them on, too and of course, I caked my face in makeup. Dad said we could buy some more makeup while we were out, but of course I wasn't planning on _buying _it. Of course, dad could never leave without carrying a weapon, and he buried it in the bottom of my rucksack, covering it with items and placing it in some special kind of small string-bag, just so it wouldn't be spotted. We're lucky the security is beyond a joke in Gotham's City Centre. We would both soon get away and laugh it off anyway.

They charge you an insane amount at the store to have your ears pierced, but as you know, dad was never short of money. He paid for it and had the cheek to be laughing at me while I sat in the chair, squirming as I had a sharp needle punched through my ears. It didn't hurt after all, but dad worked me up by making all sorts of silly comments, saying my ears were going to bleed afterwards. The women in the shop tried to laugh along, but they got kind of freaked out by dad's laughter, which almost started to sound rather animated now. I got a free pair of earrings afterwards too, and I chose these simple black studs with gold gleaming around the edges.

"Whatcha think, dad?" I asked, cheerfully, as we headed out of the shop. I prodded my new earrings, showing them off to him.

"Simply beautiful, Shaylee," Dad smiled, as he placed his arm over my shoulder and walked me over to the corner of the street. He comically waved to the security camera above, making me laugh hysterically, but he soon started to quieten me down. "Now," he addressed me, lowering his voice, "you said you needed new makeup, right?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Well, uh…why don't you go get some, while I try and get some new hair dye, huh?" I nodded frantically, making my pigtails jump at the side of my head. "Okay then, baby. Meet me back here when you're _all _done, okay?"

Dad started to walk away when a sudden thought hit me like a bullet. I tugged on his leather jacket, making him shoot his head back towards me.

"Wait, dad…" I whispered, roughly.

"What?" he asked.

"We only have…uhh, one…" I nodded at him, but he stared at me with a puzzled look. I gestured my hand into a gun shape with my fingers, even making a shooting noise to give him the message. "We only have one," I whispered again.

"Ahh, a gun?"

"Shhh! Dad…" I looked around, anxiously.

"Hey, calm yourself, no one can hear us…"

"But, yeah, we only have one gun…"

"Ah crap, you are most correct. In that case, _I _better take it then, huh? Give your bag."

"But won't you look really silly with a girly rucksack on your back, dad?" I tried not to burst out laughing.

"Shaylee, when do I ever care about what people think, hmm?"

I reluctantly gave him my rucksack, which he flung over his shoulder.

"But what am _I_ going to use?" I whispered.

"You're a tough little girl, Shay, you can use your fists."

"Dad, I'm not little anymore."

Dad smirked at me. "You know what I like about that answer? You immediately say you're, ah, _not little _anymore…instead of arguing about using your fists." He chuckled under his breath.

"Of course I can use my fists, I've done it before now, haven't I?" I replied, smirking just like him.

"Hmm. I like that. I like that _a lot_."

"I'm glad."

We shared a chuckle and then he cleared his throat before he addressed me, importantly, like I was a soldier, and he was an army general. "Right then, Shay, my love, meet you back here?"

"Yes, daddy," I answered, purposely making myself sound like an innocent little child.

"Good girl!" he exclaimed, tenderly pinching my chin.

We headed our separate ways, and I made my way down to the beauty store. I went to the crummiest, cheapest store I knew, that was owned by some cocaine addict, so it was easier for me to steal stuff. It was on the greyest part of the City, not far from Joey's Tavern, in fact. The shop owner was texting on his phone when I entered, and there was only another old lady in there, taking her time looking at a long line of lipsticks.

I won't go into details about what I did because you know the drill. Find something I loved, made sure no one was looking, pretend to examine it and then find a crowded place in the shop where I could bury the stuff in my pocket without being seen. Of course before I looked I made sure there was no security cameras around, I wasn't that stupid. I ended up stealing some new black lipstick and a very small bottle of perfume too, but nothing more because I didn't have enough room in my pockets. I thought maybe getting one of those purple coats like dad's coat that was loaded with pockets inside and out, so I could fit loads more stuff in it.

I went strolling out of shop and laughed like a madwoman all the way back to the centre to meet dad again. The people in the street who sneered at me, I casually laughed off and gave them a sarcastic wave and even the odd, "You want an autograph?" comment. Hey, I may have been small for my age but people still backed away when I shared dad's devious smile with them.

I waited for dad for at least half an hour as I twiddled with my new property in my pockets. It got to the point where I slid down the wall and started observing the inhabitants who were strolling past me. I lit myself a cigarette (which I'd kept safely hidden in my jacket pocket) and smoked it happily as I watched. I couldn't help but stare at them, some of them were highly entertaining with how they acted. At one moment, two older ladies starting belittling the youth of today, and one of them even glanced at me and gave me the look of death. I found that highly amusing and raised my eyebrows at her, as I exhaled a long puff of smoke into the air just as she made the comment "And all of them are all _smoking_, nasty little habit." Her disgusted look at me just made me laugh.

Dad eventually met up with me, with my rucksack squashed tightly on his back. He came dashing over, making me immediately stand up and get ready for action.

"Shaylee!" he called.

"Hey, dad!"

He joined me, panting hard. He almost collapsed onto me, but he quickly grabbed my hand.

"Come _on_. We need to go before someone reports our, uh, _suspicious behaviour_."

He winked at me, making me laugh, loudly.

"I don't recall acting suspiciously," I said, sarcastically.

"No?" Dad grinned at me. "Is _this _acting suspiciously?"

I squealed loudly as dad suddenly swooped me up from the ground and lifted me like a groom would carry his bride on their wedding day. My shrieking giggles and dad's sniggering attracted a lot of attention, but we didn't care. I _loved _the attention (the ADHD did that). I always liked to make myself the centre of attention when I was in school.

One woman suddenly had the nerve to come storming over.

"Excuse me, will you stop that shrieking?!" she cried. "People are trying to shop here."

I spluttered into laughter again as dad glared at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are we not allowed to have a bit of fun, huh?" Dad said, mockingly.

"Aw, dad, I think she needs to lighten _up_!" I said, grinning at him. He smiled back at me.

"Too right, precious," he said. "Why is everyone in this place so _serious_? Come on, beautiful, let's get out of this dump. Let's go home."

He started carrying me down the street, and I childishly swung my legs around in the air, not caring if I hit someone in the face.

"_Bye_!" I squealed, waving frantically to the woman as we left.

We laughed almost all the way back to the car, and luckily my possessions didn't fall out of my pocket. Dad didn't even get tired, he had overwhelming stamina and energy, but I guess you would if you had to run away from danger every day. Dad put me down when we reached the car and we quickly got in before we were caught.

"So how'd the little shopping spree go, Shay?" Dad asked, once we were driving back to the town.

I excitedly got my stolen lipstick and perfume from my pockets and waved them in front of dad's face.

"It went great, thank you, dad," I replied, beaming. "Got some new lipstick to replace that old one of mom's and some perfume, too."

"Ah, good, now you'll _always _be smelling like roses and not cigarettes."

"Dad!"

"What?" he laughed. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

"How did yours go, dad?"

"Fantastic. Got the new dye and put it in your bag. Had to make a quick escape, though, because there were security cameras in there."

"And you still got away with it?"

"Of course I did, Shaylee, I'm a _master _at this."

When we made it back to the flat, we put everything away and dad locked every part of the flat and shut all the windows. I went out the back for another cigarette, as dad spent at least another half an hour in the bathroom again. I wondered why he spent so much time in there, but I bet he often wondered why I spent so much time in my bedroom, although, really, I hated being locked up in there now. My mind was always racing, constantly telling me to go out and witness action, and if not, _be _the action. Although I'd always loved drawing and creating things, I found myself drifting away from it slowly. If I did doodle I would always draw swirls and random patterns, and if I ever did draw a scene, it would always be of a crime scene at night, with Gotham's skyscrapers towering above me with my pigtails dancing around as I took the city by surprise with my unpredictable actions.

That night, dad and I sat and watched a movie together, although really, dad didn't watch it. He kept going in and out to venture to the kitchen, I wasn't sure why. I watched these action movies with fascination.

That was all interrupted when my cell phone, which was next to me on the arm of the chair, started playing a silly default ringtone. I picked it up and read who was calling me.

"Who is it?" Dad asked, as he happened to be in the room at that moment.

"It's Chase," I answered. "I better answer this."

Dad sighed. "Alright, go on. I'll pause this."

I dashed out of the room and into my bedroom, answering the call as I did.

"Hey, tiger," I greeted Chase down the phone.

"Hey, Shaylee," he replied, sort of blankly.

I shut my bedroom door. "Everything alright, pal?" I asked.

"Uhh…no…not really, Shay," he said, monotone.

I sat on my bed. "What's up?"

Chase stuttered before he nervously continued. "Well, you know what happened last night?"

I sighed. "Yes, I know, I was there."

"Me and Alex…we had a fight about it this morning."

"What?! Oh my god. Chase, why didn't you ring me sooner?"

"I tried to but you didn't answer your phone."

"Oh shit, yeah, I was out…_shopping _with my dad. When did this happen?"

"Just before lunch. He asked me to meet up and we ended up fighting. Which you know, is something I _never _do. You _saw _how angry I was with him last night, didn't you? I couldn't _believe _he did that to you! Thinking he's the man that he can just embarrass you like that. He's such a fucking dick. I didn't have him pinned as that sort of a guy when I first met him, but you know what? He turned out to be _such_ an idiot, I thought he was cooler than that, you know? More respectful towards girls."

"Well, Chase, he was _drunk_ when he did it. He was off his face."

"I don't care! I've seen him do it before! The other week when we went out for a drink at Matty's, he tried chatting up some chick there, too, and to top it all off he _knew _that Matty had a huge crush on her, but he still just tried it on with her anyway! And he wasn't even drunk at that point!"

"I knew he was a bit of a horny bastard, but I didn't know he was _that _bad."

"But-but Shaylee, he _knows_…." His voice trailed off and I heard him sigh, sadly.

"Chase? Hello?" I said.

"I'm here, Shay."

"What's wrong? You okay?"

"Not really."

"Look, just _forget_ about him, Chase. I'm not talking to him anymore. I'm not stopping you from being friends with him, though…"

"Huh, you can forget that! I don't want anything to do with the twat now. I've had enough of him. I've had enough of him for ages, to be honest with you."

"You could've just ignored him ages ago."

"I know, but I put up with him for the other guys' sake, which I know I'm a twat for, but…you know. I mean, he offered me weed and stuff, and I can't be doing with that shit. He takes the piss out of me constantly because I won't try it."

"I won't touch the stuff. It's horrible, it's an overrated piece of crap. I'm just sticking to the normal cigarettes, they're all I need to chill out."

"Same."

There was a few moments of silence, as I heard Chase sigh again at the other end of the phone.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked him.

"I'm fine, Shaylee, I'll get over it. Are _you _okay about it because you were really upset last night?"

"Oh don't worry I'm fine. My dad helped me to get over it."

"Oh god, I bet he went apeshit."

"Not much, actually. He just went on a big rant about how to not let guys take advantage of me and stuff like that."

"Well, he's right! I'd _never _take advantage of a girl, _ever_. Especially not _you_."

I giggled. "Thanks, buddy."

"You're welcome, tiger." We both paused, as I waited for him to say the speak next. "Shaylee?" he finally said.

"Yeah?"

"I…I need to tell you something."

My heart started racing. "Yeah?"

He paused for a while as he began to stutter. "Me and Alex…we mainly had a fight about…well, about you."

"Yeah, you already said that."

"I _mean_, like…I don't know how to say this. " He groaned in frustration. "Goddamn it, Chase."

"Chase, what is it?"

"Shay…what made me so mad, is he tried to kiss you when I told him _the day before_ that…that I liked you."

I stared ahead at the wall as my heart smiled.

"You…you what?" I asked, not believing what I'd just heard.

"I told him that I like you. He tried to kiss you when he _knew_. He's such a _jerk_…"

"Oh, Chase…"

"I'm sorry. I should have told you _ages _ago."

"Chase…"

"I should have told you when I first knew it, that day you came into middle school..."

"Chase."

"I should have said that I liked you because maybe we'd be something _more _right now but I'm such an idiot that I…"

"Chase!"

"Y-Yeah?"

"It's okay."

Chase did a cute chuckle, making me beam like an idiot. I felt butterflies inside me for the first time in my life.

"Okay. So I told you," he said. "Are you..."

"What?"

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Oh Chase, why would I be mad?" I laughed.

"Because…because I thought…"

"What?"

"I thought you might, you know…tell me to do one or something."

"No, I could…I could _never_."

"Shaylee, I…I think I'm in love with you."

"What? Chase, stop it."

"No, really, I think I am…"

"Chase, you're _fifteen_…I'm only fourteen."

"So? People can fall for someone no matter how old they are. It don't matter if I'm fifteen or not…I think I'm in love with you."

I giggled. "You _think_ or you _know_?"

Chase sighed heavily. "I know."

"Oh my god…"

"You don't hate me for this, do you?"

"No, of course I don't. Why would I?"

"I…I don't know."

"You're too sweet." He chuckled as I felt the butterflies trembling ferociously inside me again. "Chase?"

"Yeah?"

"Since we're making confessions, I…I should tell you something, as well."

"What's that?"

"I…I've had a crush on you for a while, too…"

"You…you…what, really?"

"Yes, Chase."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, man…"

"What?"

"This is…this is _insane_."

"I'm _not _insane."

"No, no, no…_you're _not, I mean, the fact you _like _me is."

"How is it insane? You're the nicest guy I've ever met. Even if you _are _a little rebel sometimes." We both laughed in unison. "All the others I know are okay," I continued, "but they're either weed-smokers or pathetic little cowards."

"Well…"

"You know what I like about you, Chase? You're very nice…you're smart…but you're also tough. If you have to do something to get it, you'll do it. You take no shit. You always _listen_ to me, too. You don't even _care _about the fact I've been expelled from school, you actually listened to _my _side…you don't even care I have ADHD…"

"You can't help that, why would I care?"

"A lot of guys would."

"Well, I don't try and _be _like other guys…I know that sounds, a bit, big-headed, but…"

"Oh, no. I like that. I like guys who are honest and genuine. I like guys who fight back and take responsibility and will do anything to get what they want. Shows their inner strength. Guys who are weak and pathetic put me _right off_."

"I guess you're right. I _do _take no shit. Well, I had to learn to defend for myself and be a man around the house for my mom because my dad's not bothered with me for ten years."

I decided not talk about his father, so I continued with the praising. "Chase, you're the _perfect _guy for me. You're genuine, nice and kind but you're also someone who wouldn't let anyone get the better of you. I _like _that. Oh and you're actually _respectful _to girls, too. And also you're really hot."

"Okay, that's pushing it a bit," he laughed.

"You are, Chase."

"And you…you're so beautiful."

"Oh shut up." I started giggling uncontrollably.

"No, you are."

"Chase!"

"What?"

"Stop it, my dad can probably hear me laughing in the next room!"

"But it's the truth."

"No one…no one's ever called me that before, apart from my dad."

"I don't believe that."

"It's the truth!"

"Well then people are blind."

"People _suck_."

"Yeah, you got that right."

I sighed as lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling lovingly, with the phone still to my ear.

"Shay?" Chase said.

"Yeah?"

"Well…now we know that we, you know…"

"Like each other?"

"Yeah…well…I was wondering…"

"Chase…if you're asking me out…I…I wouldn't bother."

"W-Why not?"

I sighed miserably. "I have to think about what my dad would say. He…he's conscious of boys in my life, he's told me I can date but I know he'll be worried because he's protective of me. I…I can't let boys take priority…not that you wouldn't be a priority, I mean…I don't know…"

"But Shaylee, you wouldn't even have to spend _all _your time with me. I wouldn't make you choose…I would never get in your way…"

"I know, but…I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"I understand, Shay."

"But I don't want to upset you like this."

"Don't be silly, I'm not gonna force you into a relationship if you're not ready for one, yet."

"But that's the thing…I _am _ready to be with you. I know we're young, but…we want this relationship, right?"

"I know I do. And it doesn't matter about our age, we can still be together."

"But Chase, I…I can't upset my dad when I know he's going to worry."

"I understand, Shay, honestly. I know how close you guys are, I wouldn't let myself come between you."

"But you wouldn't! I…I don't know…it's complicated…"

"Okay, then, how about this? For now, we can just stay best friends. When we feel the time is right, we can be together. I'm patient, I can wait."

"But I don't know when that time will come. My dad…he's going a bit crazy at the moment. I don't know when he's going to go mad at me…every time I've talked about you he seems a bit off with me. Well not _off_, but…he sounds very serious. He doesn't want me to get hurt and I _told _him you'd never hurt me, but…"

"Shaylee, calm down, it's okay."

"I'm sorry it's just complicated."

"But anyway, I'm glad I…I'm glad I told you. I thought you should know after last night. I hated seeing you like that."

"I'm never gonna be like _that _again."

"When will I see you next?"

"You finish school at 3:30 tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"I could meet you after school if you want. We could go to town."

"Sounds good to me."

"Okay then." I paused as I smiled at the ceiling above me. "Chase?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me. I needed to get it off my chest, too."

"Hey, it's fine, you know. I…I'm glad you're okay, anyway."

"Yeah, you too, tiger. See you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Shay."

"Night, Chase."

I ended the call and lay there for a few moments of silence, gazing above at the ceiling of my bedroom. I felt a strange feeling I'd never felt before. I felt a rush of happiness, but this was a different kind of happiness to the one I felt when I was with dad. I don't know maybe it was…love? Maybe. I don't know. I thought fourteen was way too young fall in love, but, maybe Chase was right. Dad said he never loved Harleen, yet he said he had a crush on her as a teenager? Maybe he _did _fall in love with her after all. It was strange because that day I'd told dad I found it hard to feel emotions for anybody, yet I'd just had a strange sensation about Chase? I don't know.

I felt so peculiar that it took me a while to re-join dad in the living room, where he was still sat in the same position. The movie was still paused, and he smiled at me when I walked in, still feeling very odd. I sat down tenderly, leaning back in the sofa. I was startled when dad started chuckling.

"Looks like someone's away in the clouds, huh, Shaylee?" he said.

"Huh? Sorry, I…I'm okay."

I smiled reassuringly at him. Dad raised his eyebrows at me, curiously.

"So, what did Chase want then, honey?" he asked.

"Oh, just…just to see how I was after all that last night with Alex. They've fallen out."

"Ahh, I see."

I looked ahead, waiting for dad to continue with the movie, but instead he continued to smirk at me. I slowly looked at him, confused.

"What?" I chuckled.

"Oh, nothing," Dad answered, still smirking. "Just, ah, wondering if Chase wanted anything else?"

"Uhh…no, dad, not really, why?"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Well, yeah."

"Hmm. It's just, you suddenly seem a little…ooh what's that? I see a little blush on ya cheeks!"

I quickly touched my cheeks and turned my face away.

"What? No I'm not!" I laughed.

"Oh, Shaylee, I could hear _every word _in there!"

"You…what? Oh god!"

"Yeah, honey! Aw, Chase getting all lovey-dovey, was he?"

"Dad, stop it."

He chuckled as he pulled me closer, hugging me around the shoulders.

"Look at me. Now, be honest with your old man. Have you got a little crush, Shaylee?"

I sighed. "Yes, dad," I mumbled.

Dad nodded. "I see, I see. I _knew _it. I just _knew _it."

"Dad? Uhh…I think it's more than a _crush_, to be honest."

"Oh?"

"Well, Chase just said…that he's in love with me…but, can you feel love this young?"

"I suppose you can, yes. When I was fourteen, I had a crush on Harleen, for some reason, as you know…"

"But did you feel like you were in love?"

"I guess so…at the time. I got that weird tingly feeling you get when you're a teenager. I don't know, I…I don't really remember. But let's forget about that. Back to _you_. I heard everything you said to him. You think it would bother me if you started dating him, huh?"

"Well, yeah, you said this morning, that I couldn't let boys distract me from…"

"You're right, you can't, but, this Chase…he sounds pretty decent to me. From what you've told me. I've always known you've liked him and he seems pretty fond of you. If he cares…_so much_ about you…he'd never harm you, although he would _harm _others to protect you and to get his own way. He seems like he'd put you first every time. Hmm? Let's think about this. Has he ever done anything, say, _extreme_?"

"What do you mean?"

"Has he stolen anything?"

"Well…yeah, a few times."

"Have you ever seen him with a gun?"

"Well…no…but I don't see why he wouldn't use one."

"Hmm. You were saying how he wasn't a weakling, right?"

"He isn't, he's hard as nails. But he's got a good heart as well."

"Not when it comes to you, he's not hard. He's a big softy, isn't he, hmm?"

"Well, I guess so, yeah…"

"So overall, from my little conclusion, baby…he's _loyal_, he's _tough_, he's _respectful_, he'd _protect_ you, he wouldn't fall for _any _stupid plan put in front of him…seems good enough to me."

"What are you saying, dad?"

"What I'm _saying _is…he seems reasonable enough to date my not-so-little girl."

"So you _will _let me date him?!"

"Have I ever stopped you from dating _anyone_? All I've said you is that don't let him _break _you. Don't let him be your weakness. I don't want any, ah, _corruption _from him. A lot of boys your age tend to think they're the big man, wanting to dominate their woman. You can't let him do that. You can date, as long as you stick to the golden rules that I said to you this morning. Remember?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I know you're a smart girl, just like your dad. I _know_ you'll make the right decisions. You think I don't trust you?"

"But I don't know if I should risk it, dad. I know how caught up I'll get in the dating and it'll distract me from providing for us and from our bonding time. I don't want that. I know you'll say we can balance it, but I don't know if I _can_. But at the same time, if Chase knew what I was doing…he'd be disgusted with me."

"Disgusted? Shaylee, I think he'd still care no matter what."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I mean, look at me and your mom. I still managed to love her a _little_ even after _everything_…_everything_ she put me and you through. Even though I was dominant with _her_…I only got mad with her because she needed some sense jammed into her. _That's _when it's necessary. Only _then_. It's something called unconditional love, darlin'. It's something that won't ever leave, no matter how crazy your mind drives you, you'll always care about that person." I cuddled up to him, gratefully, and he held me close. "I trust you with my life, Shay," he said, rubbing my shoulders. "I have faith in you. I have ever since you were born. I always _knew _you'd be a tough little girl, just like your old dad."

"Daddy, you're not old," I laughed.

"Nah, I'm not _that _old. But like they say, as you get older, things change more, I suppose. I think they _are _too."

We stayed cuddled for the rest of the night as we continued to watch the end of the movie. The ending turned out to be so unbelievably predictable. We both went straight to bed afterwards, me falling asleep within minutes, with thoughts of Chase making me settle down so peacefully.

The fact that dad trusted me and trusted Chase, despite never meeting him at that point, was amazing. It gave me so much more confidence.

I maintained that it was best to leave a proper relationship for the moment. I wanted to be with him, but I couldn't leave dad and our work behind. That's what I felt it was more like now. It wasn't something we just _did_, I felt like it was our _job_. We did it to provide mostly, although I believe dad was doing just for fun now. It _was _fun, most of time. Not when people got in the way, or in my face making me mad, and I had no choice but to threaten them with a gun, which soon backed them off. It was laughable the fact they were intimidated by a fourteen year old girl in pigtails.

I did meet Chase the next day, which I was nervous about, as I thought things would be extremely awkward. To my surprise, Chase didn't even bring up the conversation we had that night at all. We acted like we always did, joking around, smoking endlessly. Chase was even worse than me with the smoking, but I didn't mind. He looked even more attractive when he smoked, he always flipped his hair back when he put it to his mouth and inhaled it. He tossed his hair back again when he breathed out the smoke, sometimes attempting to make little shapes with it like the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.

We had a long conversation about what seemed like nothing. I talked about how I was planning to get Chelsea and Tom together, which Chase said would piss off Chris because he was mad about Chelsea, too. I was surprised Alex hadn't tried it on with Chelsea up to that point. Alex had already lost his virginity, to some girl called Phoenix (yeah, I know, what a name), when they were drunk at his fifteenth birthday party. He was the first out of all the guys, which of course they got annoyed about. Chase said he was going to wait until the right moment. I decided that, too. I wasn't going to just fuck someone for the hell of it, unlike Alex and the rest of the boys.

Something pretty weird came up in the conversation, though.

"So why did your parents call you Shaylee?" Chase asked, randomly.

"Funny story, actually," I replied. "Mom and dad were convinced I was going to be a boy, and my mom liked the name Lee. Dad liked Shayne, with a Y. Dad _wanted _me to be a son, he told me he did. He didn't mind when I turned out to be a girl, though. I don't think he'd have it any other way now, actually. Anyway, they hadn't decided on a girl's name when I was born, so they just put Shayne and Lee together to make Shaylee, which they both loved. And I love it, too."

"Are you serious?" Chase said.

"Yeah, true story," I laughed. "My middle name is the same as my mom's. Jane. Sounds so posh, don't it?"

"Well, so is mine: James. I wish I could change it because you know that James is my dad's name."

"Have you seen him recently?"

"Not for a few months now. I don't want to see him anyway. Waste of space."

"Where even is he?"

"Somewhere in the City, probably impregnating women all over the damn place. Couldn't stick to one woman when he was married to my mom, the piece of shit."

"That's so horrible! Why would he cheat on your mom? That's like…that's like throwing away a diamond and picking up a rock!"

"Tell me about it. He's probably trying to feed his drug habit. That's why I won't touch drugs."

"I won't touch alcohol because of what it did to my mom."

"Bet it was awful."

"It was."

Alex tried to ring me a couple of weeks later and at first I just decided to ignore it. I eventually got fed up with him calling me and we had huge argument on the phone. Dad was out at the time and it was just me in the flat. I don't think I'd cursed so much in my entire life, but what did he expect when he was calling _me_ every name under the sun? He told me that he liked me, and that the kiss was a 'mistake' but I could never forgive him. I was more pissed off about how he made Chase feel. I never saw him again because I threatened to beat him up if he came near me. He said 'bring it on' but the little idiot never did come and try and fight me. Chase fell out with him and even Chris drifted away from him. He still hung around with Tom, Matty and Jason, though, which I didn't mind as long as the asshole didn't come near me.

He made me so mad that I felt like I could kill him.

Over the next few months, Chase rung me numerous times to ask for advice on his art projects for school. He'd taken it as a final subject, and that September he'd be going onto his final year, so he wanted so bad to make his work a masterpiece. The other guys asked me for help, too. I was pretty useless for Jason as I was clueless at chemistry, which was what he was intelligent at, when he could be bothered. I couldn't help Chris much either as he was into all the performing stuff, which I was useless at as well. I helped Matty on a few things, as he took art too, but he was nowhere near in the same league as Chase.

Tom and Chelsea did end up dating, the next summer vacation, in the June. It was very cute but so awkward when we all hung around together, especially when Tom couldn't keep his hands off her. Chelsea would always text me about him, to which I just replied something like, 'Aw, cute' or 'Aw that's really sweet, babe.' It just made me more eager to start a relationship with Chase.

I was such an idiot, especially because I left it for _so long_. I started to feel like I was falling in love with him more and more all the time. I loved the feeling, but I knew it was dangerous. Not dangerous as in because I'd be falling into a turbulent relationship, but because he'd be a distraction and possibly weaken my inner durability (like when dad gave me that example if I had to choose between him living or me surviving). I was terrified that was going to happen and that I'd crumble in front of dad. If that happened, then dad would get so angry at me. I didn't want our relationship to die, not now, when it was so strong.

Julia, Chase's mom, had shown me how do dye hair properly for myself that summer, and so I tried to dye dad's hair green one night with the dye he'd stolen that day we got my ears pierced. He kept wriggling in his chair, purposely messing me around, which I took light-heartedly, although I nagged him to keep still constantly. Dad had always been very fidgety, he'd been doing it even more so then. I did make it work, though, and his hair was bright with the beautiful dark green colour that dad was very pleased with. He loved it so much he spent about an hour in front of the mirror afterwards, admiring it, twirling it around with his fingers. I received $100 from dad the next day because he was so impressed. I spent that on cigarettes and new clothes, one of which was a new purple jacket, similar to the one I'd had a few years ago.

Dad and I continued our little outings together, and all through the summer I witnessed some brilliant action. It started to get more and more extreme, too, but, honestly, that made it much more exciting. One day, dad held this guy at knifepoint while I took some dollars out of the guy's car. Dad then shot him in the head with a loud laugh and I watched the man fall lifeless at my feet. Although I was gobsmacked, dad just seemed to shake it off like it was nothing. I started holding more people at gunpoint myself, though only when I felt threatened. I never fired the gun, not ever. Sometimes I felt like I could downright shoot them, but for some reason I couldn't find it in me to shoot them. Dad did it all the time, though, but I didn't interfere with that. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes the victim's expressions were so pathetic I stood and laughed while dad held them there. Sometimes he even told them little stories, just like he did to me. They seemed to change all the time, though, but that just made it more interesting to me.

Chase started his final proper school year at Gotham High in the September, and he hung out with me, Chelsea and Tom the night before they were due to go back to school.

"You're so lucky you don't have to go back, Shaylee," Tom said.

"I know, I feel sorry for you guys, actually," I chuckled.

"I'm looking forward to art, though," Chase cut in. "I just don't wanna fuck it up."

"You won't, Chase," I said, smiling at him. "You'll be amazing. You're so good at art."

"Thanks, tiger," he said, nudging me.

"Aw, why don't you guys get together, already?!" Chelsea said, resting her head on Tom's shoulder.

"Chelsea!" Tom laughed.

"What? It's _so _obvious they're made for each other."

"Maybe, but don't make it awkward, baby," Tom said.

"It's okay," Chase said. "We _are _just friends, though."

"Best friends," I added.

"Aw!" Chelsea squealed.

"Shut up, Chels," I laughed. "It's bad enough us guys having to third wheel you and Tom. You don't want to put up with us doing that _too_, do you?"

"But you'd be so cute together. I can't believe he hasn't asked you out yet."

"Yeah, Chase, when you gonna get the balls?" Tom chuckled.

"Can we please talk about something else?" I said, sharply.

"Alright, alright, chill out," Tom said.

"I _am_."

"Shaylee, just forget it," Chase said, soothingly rubbing my arm.

Two months went by, and we still didn't get into a relationship. I don't know what was holding me back. Well, I _did _know. Even dad started to see I was getting upset about it, which frustrated me because I hated getting upset. Ever since that night of my fourteenth birthday, I despised getting all emotional about stuff. Now I'd gotten into the habit of being in charge with all the 'criminal' stuff I'd been doing with dad, feeling weak and pathetic felt so humiliating.

In the November, I started to get bored of dyeing my hair black. I had a change of mind. Dad gave me the money to buy a brand new colour, something that would make me look even more innocent to the unwary eyes of the people in Gotham City. I went with Chelsea one weekend to the beauty store, and she went on and on about how I should dye it red. Not ginger, but like a maroon sort of colour. I thought she was mad, as I thought it wouldn't suit me at all, especially with my pastel complexion. Having black hair made me looked gothic, but I desperately wanted to try and tone down my gothic looks now.

I ended up buying a golden blonde hair dye, which even Chelsea wanted for herself. It cost more than what my black dye would usually, but it didn't matter. The next day I masterfully dyed it in the bathroom, the way Julia had shown me. It certainly gave dad a shock when he came in late that night. I was in my black pyjamas, too, so it shone even brighter in my bedroom light.

"I'm back, Shaylee…woah, _what_?" he exclaimed when he came into my room.

I laughed as I shook my head, displaying it from every angle.

"You like, daddy?" I asked.

"It's very, uh…bright, isn't it?" Dad laughed.

"I think it's beautiful."

"Certainly makes you look like a little cutie. Very adorable indeed."

"People won't suspect a thing if I look all sweet and innocent, dad."

Dad chuckled sinisterly. "Very good thinking, my girl. _Very _good. You'll look even more adorable when it's in those cutsie pigtails."

I giggled as I straightened it with my hand.

Dad was right. It _did _look adorable in pigtails. It certainly attracted people in the City when we went out the next day. It took me a while to get used to it, but when I did, I felt like I'd had it all my life.

Life was going pretty swell up until the following January. The New Year had started amazingly well. Dad and I had managed not to have been caught once on our little adventures, but I _was _learning from the best. Chase was doing well in school, despite us _still_ being too scared to get together.

In mid-January, something came up on the news that I certainly didn't expect. It was on late at night, and I was sat watching with dad on the sofa. We didn't know what was coming on as we'd turned it on before the opening montage.

It cut to the second story.

"Prisoner Harleen Quinzel has escaped from Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane today after she was caught escaping on CCTV cameras. The 36-year-old woman who had been imprisoned for a nine-year sentence after murdering Diana Jenson four years ago, has been confirmed to have escaped the early hours of this morning. The CCTV footage shows Quinzel escaping, after attacking and knocking out Officer Paul Nolan. An unknown figure was also captured on camera helping her escape, but the man was covered with a mask, leaving his identity unknown. Police have yet to confirm where Quinzel is hiding and Lieutenant James Gordon has warned the people of Gotham City about the escape of Quinzel. Gordon reports that police are further investigating Quinzel's whereabouts."

My heart was pounding, as I glanced at dad, who sat there, grinning broadly at the screen. Nothing was said for a while, but dad did scoff and shake his head many times. He started to chuckle quietly until the laughter became unbearably hysterical.

"Dad, what's so funny?" I asked, tugging on his arm.

"Oh, Shaylee, it's just so _priceless_!" Dad cried. "The sneaky little bitch! Can't believe she got away with that one!" He cackled, loudly. "This…this is _amazing_!"

"What? Dad, how is this amazing?"

"Don't you see, honey? Now she's escaped, the police are going to be running around _rampant_ trying to look for her! Well, they'll create _such _a commotion in the City! Everyone's gonna panic because they know how insane Harleen is and they'll be even _more _scared now! It'll make it easier for _us _to…do things because the cops are gonna be a _little _distracted! Harleen has just helped me and she doesn't even _know _it!"

Dad leaped to his feet, still laughing hard. I remained glued to the sofa, and although I was smiling, I felt a little nervous.

"But, dad, wait a minute…" I began.

"There is not another minute to _wait_!" he bellowed. "Oh, my Harleen…I _have _to get back in touch with her again…."

"_Dad_!"

He darted his head aroun. "What, baby? Is something wrong?"

"What if they accuse _you _of helping her escape?"

"_Me_? My darling, I don't wear _masks_! Anyway, they can't accuse _me_! They have no proof!"

"Well, you have worked with her before and the police know that, so who's to know you haven't helped her this time?"

"Well, I didn't, did I?"

"But you still _could _be blamed…"

"Oh, Shaylee, honey…why so serious?"

That made me giggle, but I soon snapped out of it. "I'm just saying, you know…"

"Ah, well, there's no need to _worry_. I think I'm going to go to bed now. Gotta get up tomorrow to witness all this…" Dad's voice suddenly turned into that scary gravelly tone. "To witness the _beautiful _chaos."

He prolonged the word 'chaos' like he was taking it all in. He even closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. My heart raced as I saw him bang his head against the wall, whispering "_Stop, stop, stop_," obviously to his voices. His eyes winced as they had a little disagreement in his mind. I knew that's what was happening because it'd happened to me before. Even though he was trying to calm himself, he was still laughing heartily.

I glanced at the TV that was showing footage of Harleen escaping. I exchanged glances from the TV to dad, who was still banging his head on the wall. His laugh started to grow on me. I hadn't realised I'd started laughing just as hysterically as him until dad came over and I collapsed onto him, with tears coming from my eyes from laughing so hard. Dad squeezed me until I could barely breathe, but I didn't care.

Just because I was laughing doesn't mean I wasn't aware what was happening. Dad was becoming crazy. Well, he was already because of the disorders, but this seemed to be crazier than ever.

Our laughter continued ringing beautifully throughout the flat until eventually we laughed ourselves to sleep.

I woke up the next morning with my head rested peacefully on dad's chest with his arm around my shoulder. His other arm was hanging loosely over the end of the sofa. I flickered my eyes open and looked up at my sleeping father, who looked so peaceful. It almost looked like he was still grinning manically.

For some reason, my head was quietly racking, I guessed because our laughter was so deafening before we fell asleep it carried on lingering inside my head. I had to take deep breaths and grip the top my head before I could fully wake myself up, but luckily the voices were not ripping my brain to shreds that time. It sounds silly, but it was something I just got used to. I had to do this on many days, that's why I tried to stay well away from arguments and avoided fighting in case I got really angry and had a breakdown. And I don't mean that metaphorically. I mean a literal breakdown. Like that morning after the day mom was shot. I despised it, but it's something that won't go away. I can't tell you how difficult it is. That's why I _loathe _it when people make fun of it or act like it's nothing. It's not nothing. It's a fucking big deal, especially when you were a fourteen year old girl like me.

After I'd fully composed myself, I quickly looked over to the clock by the fireplace. It read 10:35am.

I gasped and started tugging on dad's shirt, who still hadn't awoken.

"Dad?" I whispered. "Dad, wake up. Wake _up_." I saw his eyes flicker, and he groaned quietly. "Dad?" He stretched as he slowly opened his eyes and glanced down at me on his chest. He smiled pleasantly, though his eyes looked lifeless.

"Ah, hello, princess," he whispered. He cuddled me close, which I did back. "What's the matter? Why are you here?"

"We fell asleep on the sofa, dad," I replied.

"Oh? Oh did we, now?" Dad looked around him for a moment. "What happened again?"

"We were laughing so hard we fell asleep," I giggled. "You set me off. You were laughing about Harleen's escape from Arkham for some reason."

"Oh, yes," Dad burst out laughing again, as he kissed my forehead. "Such a sneaky woman she is. What's the time?"

"It's twenty to eleven, dad."

"What?! Oh my god." Dad clung onto me as he sat up, making me sit up with him. "Well I best get a _move _on if I'm going to see her!"

He enthusiastically rose from his seat, but he froze when I coughed loudly.

"Dad, wait."

He turned and around and chuckled when he saw me lie on my front with my legs swinging behind me.

"Huh, what, Shay?" he asked, not managing to keep still. He kept rubbing his fingers together, constantly glancing around the room and swinging his arms beside him, like an impatient child.

"Can't I come?" I asked, sweetly, fluttering my eyelashes.

Dad chuckled. "Oh no, no, no, sweetie, no," he said.

"Why not?" I asked, sharply.

"Because, sweetheart, I'm not letting you get hurt."

I scoffed. "Dad, I've been okay so far, haven't I?"

"Yes, you've done wonderfully, but, you see….Harleen is _extreme_, Shay. The City's going to go _crazy_…no doubt she'll start _blowing _things to kingdom come. You remember what she did, right? She _blew _up Goldie's Jewels and it's _still _being repaired. She's dangerous, too dangerous to be around you."

"But, dad, it'll only make me more prepared for things."

"Hmm?"

"I mean…" I sighed. "Oh, dad, _please_…I'll be good."

"I can't risk it, Shaylee. Daddy's going to be out for a _long_ time today, so I need you to, uh, stay here and…ooh, maybe you can see Chase or something."

"He'll be at school."

"Ah, of course. Maybe you could make a new Joker card for me?"

"That's actually not a bad idea."

"Good. That'd be…that'd be _wond-er-ful_. Anyway, you understand, right, Shay?"

"Yes…yes I understand."

"Good girl. Right. I'm gonna get ready and set off."

After dad spent 15 minutes getting ready and headed straight out, locking me in. I didn't even catch what he was wearing or if he even bothered to brush his hair or clean his teeth because he rushed out so quickly. I got myself dressed and ready, and conjured up ideas for a new Joker card design in the living room. I flipped on the TV and listened out for any news coverage. I would hate it if anything about dad came up, saying he'd blown up a building with Harleen or something. Of course I took frequent breaks to smoke while I started to sketch my new design.

I outlined the card, making sure it was exactly the same size as a normal playing card. I started by drawing a huge silhouette of a bat as the background shape (don't ask why I have an obsession with bats). With my purple pen I drew a skull shape. I drew his beaming smile, but on top of that I coloured it in red pen, making a beautiful clown-like grin. On his head, I drew a brightly-coloured jester hat with little spades hanging off the ends. The border was decorated with tiny heart shapes, which I delicately coloured black and red.

Once I'd completed my latest masterpiece, I signed my anagram on the back. It took me about two hours to finish the whole thing, and of course by the end I was starving. I pinned the design on my wall ready to show dad, and admired my work for a few moments.

There was something incredibly sad about the fact that I wasn't doing my art work as much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I still regularly drew from time to time but it just didn't seem to excite me anymore, not since dad introduced me to the more exciting stuff we could do in the City.

I had even started creating my own comic book strip called _The Adventures of Jane the Slave_. I started not long before I was expelled from school and of course an art lesson inspired me to do it. It was strictly private, I didn't even share it with dad. Not even Chase. They _still _have no idea about it. I shared it with only myself. It was about the adventures of Jane Price (Jane taken from me and my mom's middle name) who was a slave working for this abusive, maniac drug dealer called Bob Moskins, and he used Jane as his own little money stealer. She despised him but he loved the bones off her. Jane's parents were dead but Jane's mother was loosely descended from English royalty, so in a way that makes Jane royalty, right? I only drew one scene and it was between Jane and Bob, and Bob tied her to a chair to get answers out of her, demonically gripping a whip in his hand. She rebelled until he beat the shit out of her, leaving a scar on her right arm.

Of course I made Jane have an anger problem, like me, and I designed her so she looked sort of like me, too, except I made her blonde. Moskins makes her wear this little tiara on her head as well as short, skimpy clothes just to humiliate her (he knows about the fact she's descended from royalty, hence the tiara). I don't know what goes on in my mind to make a comic like this but, I promise you, I'm not just telling you this for the hell of it. There is a meaning to this. It'll make more sense later, I swear. In fact, it'll be very important. The character I created of Jane Price would later come back to haunt me, although I never expected it to. I thought she was just someone I made up who I would never develop again. The little drawings I did of her and Bob Moskins still remained creased up in one of my drawers in my room. I didn't bring it back out for years, I hadn't merely looked at them since I last drew them that summer vacation after I was expelled.

I got an unexpected phone call, just as I was about to make myself some lunch, despite it being late. I was surprised to find out it was Chris who was ringing as I hadn't seen him in months.

"Hello?" I answered the phone.

"Hey, Shaylee," Chris said, joyfully.

"What's up?" I asked, sounding worried.

"Nothing's up, just wondering if you'd like to come out and get some lunch with me and Jase?"

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Uhh…yeah, sure. Where are you?"

"We're in the town, thought we'd come down and get a McDonald's or something, we got the bus. Just wanted to see if you were out?"

"Uhh…yeah, yeah, I'm free. Why aren't you in school, anyway?"

"We didn't bother today. Besides, the City's being patrolled like it's a fucking army camp because the police are looking for that woman, aren't they? You know, the crazy one?"

I gulped. "Yeah…Harleen Quinzel."

"That's the one. They're running around like headless chickens." I smiled a little as I realised dad's preducation right. "So you coming?"

"Sure," I said. "Where are you? Where you wanna meet?"

"Uhh...we're outside shopping mall. We'll wait for you."

"Good because I'm going to be about half an hour if I'm walking."

Chris laughed. "Alright, see you in a bit."

"See ya."

I quickly turned off the TV and all of the lights, closing the curtains on every window. Dad told me to make sure the cops didn't know we lived here, so keeping it dimly-lit, locked up and hidden was now always something we did before leaving the flat. I slipped on my boots, tied my hair in a tight ponytail and covered my bear arms with my purple jacket. Of course, I buried a lighter and a cigarette packet in my skirt pocket. I went in dad's drawer and borrowed (not stole) some money. He had heaps anyway and we would surely get more on the weekend, anyway.

I walked as fast as I could to Gotham Town's centre, my ponytail swinging frantically behind my neck. I was surprised but pleased to see Chris and Jason waiting exactly where they had said, both of them enjoying a cigarette and chortling amongst themselves when I approached them.

"Hey guys," I said, waving.

"Oh, hey, Shaylee!" Jason exclaimed. He flicked his cigarette away and outstretched his arms for a hug. "Come 'ere! Long time, no see, eh?" I awkwardly gave him a hug back as Chris spluttered into chuckles. "What's so funny, Chris?" Jason laughed, nudging him.

"Just you, with your silly little hug, dude," Chris replied.

"Yeah, when did you get so huggy, Jason?" I laughed.

"What? I just wanted to because I haven't seen you in _ages_," said Jason.

"So, why did you guys skip school?" I asked, as we started walking down into the street lined with a limited number of tacky stores and restaurants. I lit a cigarette myself as we strolled down the shabby streets of our beloved town centre.

"Ah, can't be doing with it, Shay," Jason replied, shaking his head. "Been getting good grades in chemistry but nothing else."

"Mrs Quaid gave him a lecture about smoking the other day," Chris added.

"Oh, yeah!" Jason chuckled. "That fat bitch can talk, seen her having one outside now and then."

"Jason!" I hissed.

"What?"

I couldn't help but start giggling. "You can't say that!"

"What, she's not with us right now, is she, Shaylee?"

"I suppose not."

Chris and I chucked our cigarettes away as we finally entered McDonald's. As much as I loved it there, I do wish we'd gone to the pizza place, but there was no use arguing with those two. I gave them my money and slumped on one of the seats, facing a table infested in grease and salt as the cleaners hadn't even bothered to wipe the goddamn table. I shuddered as I wiped it off myself. The boys took ages because the queue was endless, so I stared at a man on the table next to me as I waited. He kept giving me nervous glances, to which I just giggled to.

The eventually joined me with two trays of food piled on top of each other. They'd obviously got extra fries.

"Woah, _how much_?!" I laughed as they sat down, opposite me.

"We're starving," Jason replied.

"Fair enough," I said, tucking right into my fries. Chris gnawed upon his Big Mac while Jason started stuffing his mouth with a lettuce-filled chicken burger.

"So how's everything with you?" Jason asked, with his mouth full.

"It's…it's _good_, actually, yeah," I answered.

"Well, you _are _out of school," Chris said. "You didn't even have to _come _to Gotham High because you were booted out."

I laughed. "Just as well. I don't _need _school. I just need my art and my dad and you guys and that's it."

"Aw, thanks, Shaylee. Didn't think you were the soppy type," Jason chuckled.

"I'm not. Not really. How's high school going?"

"Pretty goddamn shit, really, Shay," Chris said, and Jason nodded in agreement. "It's all a pack of lies what they say about that school's 'brilliant' reputation. Our year are gonna make Gotham look so bad."

"Nothing new," I giggled. Chris then gave me a smirk and I stared at him in confusion. "What?" I asked.

"How's uh…" he started.

"What, Chris?"

"How's everything going with _Chase_?"

Jason looked at me, expectantly and I instantly looked down at my lap, trying desperately not to crack that sickly-looking loving smile.

"What…What do you _mean_?" I said. "Nothing's going on with him."

"Really?" Jason asked, sounding surprised. "Are you not together?"

I looked back up at him, starting to feel my cheeks flushing red.

"No, we're not," I said. "Where'd you get that from? We never _have _been."

"You're _kidding _me," Chris said.

"Why? Has someone told you we are?"

"No, no," Chris replied. "Just thought you were, because you spend _so much _time together..."

"We don't spend _that _much time together," I corrected.

"And the fact he never shuts up about you in school," Jason added.

"Oh god, does he really?"

"All the fucking time, right Chris?"

Chris nodded as we all laughed in unison.

"What has he said?" I asked. "Has he told you…anything…?"

"What?"

"Anything _embarrassing_?"

"Not really, but he makes all these weird lovey faces when he talks about you," Jason laughed.

"Yeah, it's a wonder he hasn't asked you out yet."

"He-he has," I said.

They both became open-mouthed.

"And you said _no_?" Chris cried.

"Oh no, no…I didn't say _no_…I just said…now's not the right time to be together. But maybe someday, when…when I feel…like the time is right, because…" I sighed heavily. "It's complicated."

"When did he ask you?"

"Like, the day after my fourteenth birthday. He rang me."

"That was, like, _nine months_ ago!" Jason exclaimed.

"Yeah, so?"

"God, is that dude gonna _ever _make a move? So when _is_ the time gonna be right, then, Shaylee?"

I suddenly started to get annoyed, frowning at the pair of them, glaring at them with my twinkling eyes. My voice began to have a sharper edge to it.

"What does it matter?" I snapped. "Why you guys _pressuring _me to get with him? It's up to _us_! Not you! And what do you mean by Chase 'making a move'? He'll do it when the time is _right_, Jason."

Jason frowned at me. "Alright, chill, Shay," he said, chewing on another fry. I glared at him in the eye, before harshly digging my next fry in my ketchup and furiously nibbling on it. "Just thought you'd easily get with him, that's all, Shaylee," Jason mumbled.

"I _would_…I _really _like him. There's no point keeping it a secret. I do."

"I _told_ you, Chris!"

"I told Chase I did that same night. Feels like yesterday, really. Thing is…I can't date him because…I feel like…oh, it's a complicated situation, guys."

"Tell us, Shay," said Chris, leaning in.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just _can't_, okay? There's just something holding me back but I _know _I shouldn't be. Chase is perfect. My mind is fucked."

I bit my lip hard when I realised what I just said. 'My mind is fucked.' I _swore _to myself I wouldn't let _anyone _know I had a mental disorder like schizophrenia. Hopefully they'd be too dumb to realise it. Maybe they didn't even know what that was. I guess I'd broken the rule for not telling anyone because I sort of told Mrs Quaid the day I got expelled, but it didn't matter because she didn't report it or anything, which is good. I definitely told Kayley I had it, but that was in a moment where I had absolutely no self-control. From the type of person she was, I thought she'd go around telling everyone, but if she did, I'd get asked endlessly about it, especially if she told my friends. Seems like she didn't because they didn't ask about it, ever.

I hate it _so _much. I hate _writing _about it right now, but I have to tell you about it so you'll understand. Or at least try to. You'd never understand unless you had it. You'll never experience pure evil unless you've had it yourself.

Chris and Jason stayed quiet for a few moments as they watched me quickly stuff my lunch. Jason finally managed to pipe up after a while.

"Shaylee?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not gonna force you, of course I'm not…"

"Jason, I don't want to talk about it."

"No, just listen a minute. I just wanna say, you know…Chase _really _likes you, I mean it's _crazy _how much he does. Chris'll back me up here, he's not that sort of guy to hurt you."

"He wouldn't hurt a fly," Chris added.

"Exactly, yeah? He's a decent lad, you know. He thinks the world of you, and all I'm saying is, you know, maybe you should give him a chance."

"But…"

"It's pretty obvious from your face that you're in love with him. You want him to be happy, right?"

"He _is _happy."

"I'm just saying you know. Think about it."

I sighed as I managed a little smile. "I will, Jase," I said.

"You coming to his sixteenth next month?" Chris asked.

"Of course I am, it's gonna be so awesome!" My face suddenly lit up as I gulped down a chicken nugget. "You heard what he's doing, right?"

"It's a house party," Chris said, widening his eyes at Jason, who grinned back.

"Yeah, but, he said some people are sleeping over. Not me, though. His mom won't let girls stay over."

"Oh, ain't that a shame?" Chris laughed.

"Shut up, you dick," I laughed, jokingly hitting him on the arm.

"But yeah, he said some people are staying over."

"He hasn't asked me," Jason said.

"Me neither. Probably Tom's staying. And Matty."

"Either way, it's gonna be great," I grinned.

"You gonna drink this time, Shaylee?" Jason asked, hopeful.

"No," I replied, simply.

"Aw, why not?"

"You _know _I don't drink, and don't you twats start trying to make me. You got me starting with the cigarettes and that's enough for me."

"Speaking of which, I'm dying for one right now," Jason said, fidgeting in his seat.

"Yeah, shall we go for one?" Chris said.

"Well I'm all finished," I said, wiping my hands on a serviette.

"Me too," Jason added.

"Ahh, I'm full, let's get out of here."

Chris led us out of the fast food restaurant and we all went and had a smoke at the end of the street, standing by a railing near a car park. Jason randomly took a photo of us all on his phone. It turned out with me looking really stupid as I had the ciggy in my mouth, but Chris and Jason looked like the total rebels they were. I swung my legs back and forth as I sat on the railing. The boys wouldn't shut up about Chase's sixteenth party, but Chase had told me enough for me to join in with their conversation. I kept on glancing at my own phone to see if he had text me, but I got no luck.

I stayed out with the guys until it turned just after five o'clock. It's amazing how much time you can waste by talking about nothing and going through two packets of cigarettes for a whole afternoon. Jason had to head back to 'finish some homework' and Chris was meeting up with some girl (he didn't have the balls to tell me who it was, but I guess he got over Chelsea pretty quickly). I thought it was best to return back to my flat anyway, as dad could return home at any moment.

I switched on the television as soon as I returned to the empty flat. The news didn't come on until six, so I had to make do with watching a shitty animal documentary until it came on. I waited with baited breath as the opening credits of Gotham News at Six rolled, hoping and praying there would be nothing about dad that came up.

I must have the best luck in the world.

The story about Harleen which continued from the night before came on, but it was just an update. They confirmed that they still hadn't found Harleen, therefore not finding dad. There was 'a lot of commotion' in the City Centre, however, just like dad had predicted. They were convinced that Harleen would cause trouble there, but nothing happened and no one saw any sight of her, despite there being armed police at every corner, on the lookout for her. I found that highly unusual. I thought at least _something _interesting was going to take place. Maybe Harleen had done one altogether. Maybe she wasn't in Gotham _at all_. That James Gordon appeared on the screen again, saying he thought he had 'a little idea' on where she could be hiding, in a secluded abandoned hotel or something along those lines. A bit like where Larry was hiding away from the world.

I came to the conclusion that Larry was majorly depressed or something. Dad barely talked about him since that day four years before when we left from living there for a few days. I was actually kind of glad we didn't have to do something like that again, you know, hiding away for a few days so the cops didn't catch us. Larry hadn't even bothered to stay in touch, which I remember being very disappointed about, as I actually found the guy to be okay.

I turned off the television, feeling disappointed but also sort of relieved. I thought dad would surely be home soon, despite him saying he'll be away for a 'long time.'

I felt drained after that so I slumped into bed and I let my mind rest for a while. I hoped I'd be woken up by a text from Chase, but I remained hopeless when I received nothing. I guess it was one of those days that was going to drag on.

A loud clatter in the kitchen woke me up three hours or so later. I clung onto my bed sheets as I listened closely. My bedroom door was slightly open, which I knew for sure I had shut completely before I went to sleep. I rolled out of bed, ruffling my hair as made my way into the hallway, hearing the rattling get louder.

I opened the kitchen door to find dad fiddling with the pans next to the stove, his back was turned to me. I heard him muttering under his breath as he attempted to carefully place one on the stove.

"Oh, hello, dad," I said, my voice cracking after I'd just woken up.

Dad wheeled around in surprise, almost dropping the pan but expertly catching it again before it clattered onto the floor.

"Evening, Shaylee," he laughed as he started walking over to me.

My smile faded when I saw him limping over to me quite badly. He had to grab the chair to make himself stand upright. I quickly dashed up to him, stopping him in his tracks. I tried to hold his arms, but he flinched sharply away from me.

"Why are you _limping_?" I cried. "What's happened?"

"Oh, I'm fine, pumpkin," Dad said, soothingly, placing his free hand on my shoulder. "I just had, uh…a little _fall _while I was out today."

"A _fall_? Dad, what happened?!"

"Hey, hey, hey…calm yourself." Dad managed to let go of the chair as he kept his posture by placing his hands on both of my shoulders. "I'm perfectly _fine_. I fell over and hurt my knee a bit, that's all."

"A bit? Dad it looks like you've hurt yourself real bad."

"I'll be fine. I just gotta rest it for a bit. It'll wear off. I've had worse than _this_. I got uh, a _little bit _excited today and I tripped while running."

"From _who_?"

"From Harleen, of course."

"Harleen? Why were you running away from her?"

"It was a _joke_. She's pretty funny. She couldn't keep her _hands _off me and we had a little play fight, that's when I fell over her chair."

"Where _were _you?"

"Ahh, details, details…"

"No, dad, _tell me_."

"Oh Shay, _no one _can know where she's hiding. Silly woman is hiding away from the cops, isn't she?"

"But you can trust me. Why would I tell anyone? I'm on your side, aren't I?"

Dad chuckled as gently pushed me closer to him by the neck. "Of course you are," he said. "But we should keep some things to _ourselves_, shouldn't we?" He sniggered. "All you need to know, is that we had uh…a little _catch up_…"

"Sounds more than that to me."

"Hey, shut up a minute and let me finish," Dad snapped, impatiently. I held my breath as I felt my nerves grip me. I was not used to being spoken to in that way by dad. He continued in his 'serious' voice. "We had a little catch up…some little discussions. I went and got some money, but ah, she didn't come with me. I told her to take it easy for now. Didn't want her being caught again. She's, uh…she's _relaxing_…although I know she's eager to get back on track."

"Did she tell you who helped her escape?" I asked, nervously.

"No! Ahh, now she _didn't_, funnily enough. I didn't even _ask _her. She asked how _you_ were, though and she found our little outings pretty hilarious."

"What?"

"Shush. Not in a bad way, she _likes _it. Thinks it's _sweet_."

"Dad…are you sure it's not dangerous getting into contact with her again?"

Dad burst into sinister snickers. "No, of _course_ not! In fact, she's not as _crazy _as I thought."

"Really?"

"Hmm."

"Did, are you…are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Stop asking me! Don't you worry now, Shaylee. She's going to hide away for a while, and I'll go see her for some _company _these days…"

"What about our…?"

"Don't interrupt me." I desperately tried to keep my mouth shut. "Oh, we're still going to do _that_!" Dad continued. "I wouldn't _dare _miss out on that. You know that! Only _some _days I'm going to see her. She said she needed to get out of Arkham for a bit. It's driving her insane."

"I think she's already been driven insane, to be honest, dad."

I'm such a fool. I should have kept quiet.

Dad suddenly snarled hoarsely gripped my neck tighter, making me gasp sharply. I started struggling when dad, out of a sudden random outburst of anger, pinned me against the kitchen wall, shocking me beyond belief.

"Alright, that's _enough _of that!" Dad growled.

My eyes grew larger as I suddenly felt fear grip my heart and my brain started flashing with voices so suddenly, making my eyes starting to grow wet. My mind was racing just as fast as my heart.

"Dad…dad, let _go _of me!" I shouted.

Dad didn't let go. I gasped in his grasp as my heart started racing. He wasn't smiling anymore, in fact he was staring deep into my eyes. It was like he was examining my inner thoughts. I despised the fact I was now starting to feel my heart burst out of my ribcage and was even starting to feel frightened in my own father's presence. My own _father_. The man I loved and looked up to more than anymore. Why was I _scared_?

Everything in the kitchen started to go blurry. At first, I thought it was because of my teary eyes, but I soon realised it wasn't. The room started to twist and turn, shaping different ways until it didn't look like our kitchen area anymore. It made me feel dizzy. I started to vision a dark, damp street with dim streetlights. It looked like an alleyway and my nostrils were suddenly filled with the smell of cannabis. That made me whimper as I knew there was none of that in the flat.

This was all a dream.

Wake up, Shaylee. Wake _up_. If you wake up now, you'll soon be in bed and dad will come in and make it all better. The _real _dad.

This wasn't a dream at all. This was real.

Well, the street wasn't real, neither was the reeking smell. That was all in my mind. But I didn't know that. I couldn't _help _that.

Dad was still gripping me, but not until the point I was choking in his grasp, but it was still very hard. I shook my head when I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

It all happened so suddenly. Why does _everything _have to happen so _suddenly_?

"Shaylee, _look at me_!" Dad shouted, dominantly. His strength was overwhelming. "I don't want to hear those _words_! She's _not _insane, and neither am I! Got it?"

I swear I could see a knife in dad's hand, but my vision was so scattered I couldn't tell.

Make it _stop_.

"Dad, I never _called _you insane!" I whimpered.

_Fight back, Shaylee_, I heard a voice cry. _Fight him. Show him you're not a coward. He hates cowards. And you're not one. You're not one._

An echo cried in my head as I erupted into a piercing yell. With all of the anger and strength inside me, I kicked dad hard in his lower area, which startled him as he tripped backwards. I didn't hear a knife rattle onto the floor. I fell onto my knees and screamed deafeningly, putting my hands on my head, my screaming ringing all around me until it felt like it was echoing inside my mind, which just made me yell even more. I leaned over until my head was banging against the cold pavement. I blinked hard and the pavement flashed before my eyes, briefly turning into our own kitchen floor. I whimpered until I was even banging my fist on the floor and scratching it, like I was gripping on for my life.

I was there helplessly on the floor, my brain breaking down until I suddenly felt a hand grip my shoulder.

"Shaylee!" I heard dad cry.

"_DON'T TOUCH ME_!" I roared. He immediately let me go. "Fucking _go_!" I screamed to the voices. "Get me _home_!"

"Shaylee, you _are _home," Dad cried.

"I'm _not_! Why am I in a _street_?! Get me _out _of here!" Dad tried to touch me again. "_No_!" I screamed. "No! Let me _go_!"

"Shaylee, it's me, it's dad!" he shouted, desperately.

"Dad?" My voice became weak.

"Come on," he said, trying to force me around to face him. He succeeded, until I saw him right in the eyes. My head was still banging and my vision was still dispersed, making dad's face look chalky white. "Shay, look at me. Look at me!" I looked up to him, until I collapsed weakly onto his chest, sobbing until my eyes felt like they could contain no more tears.

"Dad…why's you _do _that?" I whimpered. "I wasn't…_I wasn't_…." I broke down into tears again. "Where _am_ I?!"

"In the kitchen, with me," Dad replied. His voice was trembling, horribly. He started sounding like himself from when I was a little child, making me know I was safe. He held me closer than he had ever held me before. "Calm down, calm down, _please_, Shay."

"Dad…I'm _so _scared…I don't _want _to be scared…Why?! Why did you have a _knife_?!"

"What?! I never…oh my god…oh my _god_. Shaylee, no…_no_. You're seeing things, aren't you…can you see things?"

"What do you _mean_?"

"Look up."

I tenderly lifted my head which felt like I was lifting up a heavy weight on my neck. Dad stroked my hair as I lifted my head and I squinted my eyes as I looked at the kitchen door.

"We're…we're in the kitchen…" I sobbed.

"Oh thank goodness," Dad sounded relieved. He sharply held me close to him again. "You said you were in a street."

"I _was_…but…I mean, I thought I _was_…what happened?!"

"Oh my _god_…" Dad's voice started to crack.

"Daddy…what's _wrong _with me?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you." I heard him gasp shakily. "Oh Shaylee…I'm _so _sorry…I'm _so sorry_…."

As my tears began to relax me, I struggled to remember what just happened to me. Remembering it back now, I remember clearly, but at that very moment, my mind suddenly became all over the place. I knew I'd broken down but I couldn't remember my hallucination. A very odd hallucination, mind you. And that was first proper one I felt.

"What happened to me?" I asked dad, as I tried to take deep breaths.

"You…you had a breakdown…"

"I know _that_…but…why was I saying I was in a _street_? Why…?"

"It's all in your head, sweetie." Dad held me even tighter as I heard him speak through his gritted teeth. "It was a hallucination. Don't pay attention to it. It's all in your head. Just…just _ignore _it."

"Oh god. Oh my god."

Dad's voice finally broke. "This is all my _fault_…" he whispered.

Then I heard dad sniffle, making me snap my head up at him. For the first time ever, I saw a small tear race down his cheek and fall off his face. He quickly flickered it away, embrassed, just like I would have done.

"Dad…don't…don't _cry_…" I pleaded, touching his face.

He gripped my hand.

"I'm not crying."

He paused for a several few moments as he took deep breaths and glanced up helplessly at the ceiling, still gently stroking me. The voices started to drift off one by one, and the room gradually became visually clearer as I relaxed.

"Dad?" I said, softly. He looked at me, his eyes filling up. "I'm sorry…I…I made you angry…I shouldn't have…I should have shut up…"

"_No_," he whimpered, pulling my head to his chest. "No, no, no…you shush right now. It's _my _fault…my stupid fucking _head_, Shay…it…it took control…"

"I understand…"

"No, no, _no_…shhh. Listen to me. I don't know…_what _came over me. I guess my head is…it's…" He sighed as he leaned his head on mine and I nuzzled up to him sympathetically. "I scared you, didn't I?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

"Okay…you…you did. A lot."

"I'm sorry, baby…I'm _so _sorry…I don't know _what _came over me…I saw…I saw your mother…"

"What?"

"The retaliation…how you answered back…it made you look like your mother…"

"Oh my god, I'm _so _sorry, dad…"

"Stop blaming yourself! This is _not _you…it's me…it's my stupid head…_I_ caused you to have that breakdown…" Dad sighed. "Oh baby. Oh my baby." He sniffled, softly. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry I gave you it. It's all my _fault _this happens."

"No, dad, it's not, you couldn't help the fact I inherited it."

"That's not the point, darling. The point is it made me be abusive to you…"

"You didn't hit me."

"I still frightened you and set your own mind off. Oh…" He started crying onto me. "Oh my little girl. My _girl_. I'm sorry. I…I'm turning into a _monster_."

"Dad, don't _say _that!"

"But I am. I..."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I…I need to sleep."

He lifted my chin to look at him and he managed to smile at me.

"Okay, precious. If you say so. Will that help you?" I nodded, wiping away a tear. "Do you feel better now?"

"A little. I…I don't see anything now…I don't _hear _much…"

"That's good." He paused as he sighed worryingly. "I don't want you to be scared of me…"

"I'm not…but you did scare me…a little…but I don't _want _to be scared."

"It's okay to be scared sometimes. Can't you see, honey? I'm _terrified_ right now. Of _myself_. Of what I'm _becoming_."

"I always thought you weren't scared of anything."

"Even a guy like me can a little scared sometimes, princess. Now, go and get some rest. Calm yourself."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be…I'll be fine. I need a smoke and…I'll be fine." He lifted me to my feet and we both stumbled a little. I threw myself into a hug. "I can't believe you're hugging me after what I just did to you…" Dad whispered.

"Dad, I know I got scared, but I was more _shocked_," I said, reassuringly. "It wasn't you…it was your mind. It's almost like someone else is _made_ you do it. I can't believe you hugged _me _after I nearly burned down a classroom…you said exactly the same to me…that I couldn't help it because of the…" I winced as I said the word I most despise. "…schizophrenia."

"Don't talk about it. Shh-hh-hh…calm down."

"I am."

Dad kissed my head, lightly, which made me smile, even though it felt like it was impossible to.

"Off you go then," he whispered.

I wiped dad's tear-ridden face before I too kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, dad," I said.

"Goodnight, my love," Dad said, smiling. "I'm sorry…I'm _so _sorry…I really am…"

"Dad, it's fine…"

"It's not, though, is it?"

I sighed helplessly. "It'll be okay. You'll see." I tried to lighten the mood if it was even possible.

As I left the kitchen, I glanced backwards to see dad had already started making his way outside, picking up the lighter and cigarette packet that was on the table as he left. I heard the door slam shut as I was in the hallway.

I shakily got changed into my pyjamas when I entered my bedroom. I was still shaking when I got into bed and switched off my light. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to compose myself completely and it worked out well to begin with, despite my heart still pumping agonisingly out of my chest.

I was disturbed by loud clatter about 15 minutes later. It wasn't a quiet one. It was a loud smash which appeared to have come from the kitchen. My heart skipped a beat when I heard a painful moan from dad. He kept on moaning, and I heard a chair banging against the floor and the walls thumping. Dad's moans started drifting into loud yells, until finally they were screams. Screams that made my heart rip to pieces. I put my quivering finger to my mouth as I heard dad continue to yell and cuss, the walls rattling and thumping loudly, which he was obviously slamming with his fist. I closed my eyes to block out the sound but all it did was stream tears down my face.

I hid myself under the bed covers and allowed myself to cry again. I couldn't stand what I was hearing. I was hearing the sound of my own father being beaten down by the evil in his mind, the evil that had gone into _my _mind. I was clutching my head so the horror didn't come flooding back to me. It got louder and louder but not enough to make me see anything, or see red. I could barely see anything anyway.

I stayed there, helpless, praying that somehow dad would stop.

It did eventually calm down, making me peep from under my covers. I jumped when I heard the kitchen door being kicked open and then dad suddenly burst into my room. I rustled in my bed and quickly switched on my side lamp see him stood in my doorway, dripping with sweat, his greasy hair sticking to his face. He was panting like he'd just run a marathon, and he leaned his arm and head on my door. He breathed in and out until he just burst into tears again.

I couldn't stand it.

"Dad!" I cried. He didn't look up, but he took heavy breaths. "Dad, look at me!" I called again. This time, he looked weakly at me. "Dad, did you break down?" I asked, quietly. He nodded vigorously.

I tried with all my might to make him smile. I opened up my bed covers and wiped one of my own tears.

"Get in, then," I said, nodding towards the empty space.

That made dad smile, which made my heart do just the same. He even chuckled quietly.

"Oh, am I suddenly the child and you're the parent?" Dad laughed.

"Come on, dad," I said. "I can't have my daddy feeling this way, can I?" My voice was still shaking, but I still managed to wink at him.

"Oh, Shaylee…" Dad started to walk over, as I smiled at him. "You are _so _silly, aren't ya? What would I do without you?"

Dad flipped his shoes off and got in my bed with me, shuffling around so he got comfortable. Luckily there was just enough room for the two of us. I immediately cuddled up to him, but he cleared his throat at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Ah-ah-ah…I've given you _your _little cuddle…I want one now!"

Dad quickly shuffled up to me and placed his head onto my chest, nestling up like a little boy would to his mother.

"Ah go on then," I laughed as I put my arm around him and started stroking his head. I was almost like I _was _mothering him, nursing him through pain.

"Gotta get used to this for when you and Chase share a bed together," Dad sniggered.

"Dad!" I laughed with him before sighing and sweeping a tear away from his eye. "Do you feel okay?" I asked him, quietly.

"I feel awful," Dad replied, closing his eyes.

"Oh, dad, it's okay now."

"I know. I just can't believe tonight. Everything's happening so quickly. I don't know what's happening."

"You broke down, dad."

"I _know_…because I got _so _angry with myself….it was just thoughts…thoughts of seeing you that way…thoughts of Diana…_Diana_…"

Dad rubbed his face with his hands, almost crying into his hand again.

"Dad, mom is still here, you know." I tried to sound uplifting.

"Yeah, _literally_," Dad moaned.

I sighed. "It still seems weird sometimes, you know…that she's not here."

"I know."

"Don't know why I miss her sometimes."

"I've told you before. She was your mother. You'll always miss her when she dies. I still miss mine. I wish she could've met her granddaughter. I always _knew _she wanted a daughter of her own, but instead she was left with a silly little son. You're the closest thing she'd have got."

I ended up nursing him to sleep until all the voices in both of our minds faded away and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

That night was the first time I felt sheer terror. Not just from dad, but from the schizophrenia. It appeared to be worsening. The fact I was coming up to fifteen years old and was beginning to see things that weren't there was terrifying. Although I tried to hide it, I was so scared of dad's actions that night that I couldn't help thinking about it anymore. I _knew _that it was his mind, but like I said, it's not him. It's someone telling him to do it. He didn't touch me for a long time after that, but we'll get to that later.

I decided to try and avoid the topic of Harleen as much as possible as I knew that would set things off. Dad didn't see her the next day, instead we spent the day together doing are our own thing. He spoiled me rotten to 'make it up' to me, taking me to this really nice Italian restaurant in the City, a rare time dad _paid _for something (obviously using money we'd stolen weeks ago). We made jokes with the chubby waiter, but I could tell by his face he thought we were freaks. I wonder why he thought that. It wasn't like we were making weird jokes and laughing almost non-stop. Oh wait. We were.

Dad also bought me a necklace and when we got home he gave me something very special. He was in his room for ages trying to find it, throwing out everything from every drawer, until eventually he pulled out a sparkling golden ring, displaying it to me very delicately.

"Oh it's beautiful!" I gasped.

"It is indeed," Dad said. He kneeled down to my level and displayed it in front of my face. "I was gonna give you this…when you were a bit older, but, maybe now's the right time. As a…sorry from me for being such a…such a _monster _last night."

"Oh, dad, you don't need to do that."

"But it's _very _special. This was…this ring belonged to my mother, your grandmother. It was _her _wedding ring. When she died, she gave it to me for safe keeping and told me if I ever had a daughter of my own then she'd be the rightful person to own it. Well, here you are, so young and beautiful and looking a bit like her. Maybe you should have the right to own it now."

I put my hand to my chest as I smiled gratefully at my father.

"Thank you so much, dad," I said, almost on the verge of tears.

"You're most welcome, baby. Come on, let's see how it looks."

I took it off him and carefully slipped it on the pointing finger on my left hand. I examined it, admiringly its beautiful moonstone, gleaming in the middle.

"It's so gorgeous," I said.

"Gorgeous ring for a gorgeous girl." Dad winked at me.

"Oh shut up being so soppy, dad," I laughed.

I wore the ring with pride, showing it off to Chelsea when I met her the next day. God, I was so happy when I made her jealous, as she was the one making _me _feel jealous all the time, what with her cute relationship with Tom and such. We met up to buy our dresses for Chase's sixteenth birthday party that was being held two weeks. Of course, Chelsea chose this super short, tight dress which was a bright fuchsia colour, with a flowery pattern on the shoulder strap. I went for this awesome gothic leathery dress, which flowed behind me when I walked in it. It only went up to the knee, but it floated around my legs, so I didn't need to worry about looking like a slut. Chelsea did, however. I didn't matter, I guess, because only Tom would be all over her for the whole night.

And I was exactly right. Chelsea and Tom pretty much made out the entire night.

Chase's birthday came round so much quicker than I imagined: February 7th. I gave him this video game that he always wanted as a present. Well, I stole it a few weeks before the party. What Chase didn't know never hurt him, because he absolutely loved it. I also _made _him a card instead of buying him a crap one. I drew a goofy bat on the front with 'Happy Birthday Chase' written in huge red letters on the top. On the inside, I wrote _'From your best pal, Shaylee Jane Napier'_ and wrote my anagram as well.

Everyone was there: Jason, Chris, Matty, Tom and Chelsea. But it didn't stop there. There was also a colossal of other kids I didn't know, as well as Chase's relatives. Me and Chelsea were the only girls there, which I guess says a lot about Chase. Everyone got absolutely pissed, apart from me, but it didn't matter because I didn't need to get drunk to have an amazing time. Chase wasn't drunk either, but the amount he smoked was unreal. He'd also now put red streaks in his raven hair, which made him look even more gorgeous. Julia made an amazing buffet and Chase had an awesome taste in music, so of course is playlist was so amazing. I tried to spend the whole night with Chase and when he was with other people, I mostly stayed with Chris (who I regarded as my next best friend after Chase).

The night was so incredible that it slipped by too fast.

But the best part of the party came directly at the end.

Once everyone had left (apart from Tom, as he was staying the night, but he had already gone to sleep upstairs), I went out into Chase's garden to phone a cab. Once I'd finished my call, Chase came out into the garden through the sliding glass door.

"Hey, tiger," he greeted.

"Alright, buddy?" I said, smiling widely, feeling that gush of happiness I felt when I was with him.

"I'm really good," Chase answered.

I placed my phone into my handbag.

"Such a warm night tonight," I said, putting my bag over my shoulder.

"Yeah, especially for February. The night looks beautiful, though."

"Yeah," I sighed.

I was so distracted looking at the stars that I didn't notice Chase was staring at me.

"Can I say something?" he asked.

"Yeah?" I said, looking back at him.

"You look…you look amazing," he said, glancing down at the floor.

I felt myself blushing. "No I don't," I giggled.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, nodding his head. "You look much older than you are."

"I'm glad I do," I laughed.

He chuckled with me, until finally our eyes met and we simultaneously looked away from each other.

"Shaylee, uh…" Chase said, shuffling his feet.

"Hmm?" I quickly looked back at him again.

"Can…can we sit down a minute?" he asked.

"Uhh…sure."

He led me over to the bench in their garden, next to their pond. Yes, that's right. Chase had a _pond _with little goldfish swimming happily inside. This house was far too grand for somewhere like Gotham Town.

As we sat down, he awkwardly put his hands on his knees and rocked back and forth, but I just sat and waited patiently for him to speak, placing my bag beside me.

"Shay, can I ask you something?" he finally asked, very softly.

"Of course, anything," I replied.

"Are you…are you sure you're feeling okay at the moment?"

"I'm feeling great right _now_."

"No...I mean, well yes….but I mean…like…is your life _happy _right now?"

"I would say so, yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"It's just…I noticed, a few weeks ago, like since the end of January, you've seemed a bit down."

My heart skipped a beat. "Have I?"

"Yeah, I mean…I don't know if it's _true_, but, you've seemed a bit off when we've met up with the guys and you seem to be down when you text me and stuff. Has something happened?"

I sighed. I knew what he was talking about. The night I saw a hallucination for the first time. Of course, Chase didn't know that's what had happened, but, he knew something was up. I _had_ been acting off since it happened, but what did you expect? Even after like two weeks since it happened it still felt a little strange inside my mind.

I'd always held back from telling him about the disorder. I'd held back from _being_ with him.

I looked right into his eyes at that moment. They were glowing kindly, beautifully green.

I couldn't hold back anymore.

"If…if I tell you…you cannot tell _anyone_," I pleaded.

"Of course I won't…I _promise _you," Chase replied.

He gently put his hand on one of mine, startling me a little, but I allowed him to do it.

"You must _swear_…" I said again.

"I _swear _on my _life_." Chase nodded in reassurance.

"Because I'll have to kill you if you tell anyone." Chase chuckled. "No, Chase, I'm serious."

His smile faded as he lumbered around again on the bench.

"O-Okay…just tell me," he spluttered.

"Okay. I'll tell you." I lowered my voice. "Few weeks ago, I…I had a breakdown."

"What?!"

"Shhh!"

"You mean like a nervous breakdown?"

"Yeah…sort of. A mental breakdown…"

"Shaylee, please tell me you're lying!"

"I'm not lying. I did."

"Oh my god…"

"Please, just _listen_, Chase." I sighed. "Okay. I'm just gonna come out and say it." I saw Chase's forehead crease as his green eyes twinkled with worry. "I…I'm a schizoid."

Chase raised his eyebrows as he gave an expression of pure disbelief.

"You're a…a _what_?"

"A schizoid."

"You have…wait…no _way_…"

"I have schizophrenia."

"Oh my god. Oh my _god_."

"Chase, calm down. Let me explain. See, they discovered it when I was seven…"

"_Seven_?" Chase squeezed my hand more. "You're _kidding _me!"

"Shhh! No, I'm being honest. _Really_."

"But _that's_…"

"I know, it's…it's extremely rare. Normally it's discovered or starts in young adulthood. Not childhood. But…it wasn't _so _bad when I was a kid. I first felt it when I was eight…but it's been worse than ever recently…like the other week it was so bad…I saw a hallucination for the first time…"

"Shay, you don't _seem_ like a schizoid to me…."

"I know I don't. But I'm not lying. I _swear _I am. Why would I lie about it? I don't _seem _like one because it only happens when I get mad. Even if I'm just a _little_ mad at someone, it starts. It's…it's…it's so horrible…" My voice started to crack and he nudged more over to me.

"Shay, I understand, if you don't wanna say anymore…"

"No…I…I should tell you. Because I trust you. I'm not going to go into details about what happens because they'll just make you disturbed and…and that's not fair on you. But Chase, I _know _it's going to get worse as I get older."

"How did you get it?"

"Genetically. I got it from my dad."

Chase looked even more dumbfounded. "_Really_?"

"Yes, really. He's got the disorder but _he _didn't get it genetically. He's even worse than me but you _can't _say anything."

"Oh, Shaylee, I'm so sorry…"

I furiously wiped away the rolling tear from my eye.

"D-Don't be. I'm not asking for sympathy, but…I will ask for your support Chase. And your trust, because I…" I inhaled a deep breath. "I just keep hearing voices…so many _voices_…it's evil. It's pure _evil_. It's the reason I set the science lab on fire. The reason I was _expelled_."

Chase gave me a hug as he rubbed my shoulders. I bit my tongue as I tried greatly not to cry.

"So that's what's been up?" Chase said, sounding bewildered. "You had a breakdown a few weeks ago because of it, right?"

"Yeah…" I looked back up at him, locking my eyes onto his again. "Chase…I shouldn't have told you…"

"Don't be silly…you can trust me, I'm not going to go around telling everyone. This is something really serious that needs privacy. I'm so sorry, it must be _so_ horrible."

"It is, but…I'll be okay…please, can we just…not talk about it now? I kinda…it's…it's complicated."

"Of course."

I paused as I managed to smile at him.

"Thank you," I mouthed.

"Hey, it's okay."

I couldn't stop myself from saying the next thing which I knew I should've held back.

"It's so frustrating because I feel like it's part of the reason why I'm holding back from you…and I don't _want _to anymore. And I _know _you're gonna drift away from me because of it."

Chase then took both of my hands me made me stand to my feet, making me face him.

"No, no, no, listen to me, Shaylee." He wiped a tear from my face. "I am most certainly _not _drifting away from you. I could never."

My heart pounded. "W-What?"

"Shaylee, do you really think I could stop loving you because of that? It's something that you can't help, that _no one _can help. And besides, I don't even see that in you."

I felt such a rush of gratefulness.

"Really?" I said. "You don't think I'm turning crazy or anything?

"Of _course _not. I see a normal girl who's struggling to find herself in this world, as am _I_."

"Chase, I…I don't want to hold back from us anymore."

"Neither do I."

"Oh…I'm such an _idiot _for leaving it this long when it was like ten months ago that you _told _me…"

"Hey, hey, hey…it's okay. You weren't ready. You may not be ready now, but I still don't mind…"

"Chase…I _am_ ready. I always _have_ been. I may only be fourteen, but…I want this. I want this to work for the both of us. It's been my stupid mind and my stupid worries that have been holding me back. Stupid worries about my dad being over-protective when I know he isn't really and me worrying I'll be distracted from him when he's even _told _me it doesn't matter."

Chase smiled gorgeously at me as he gently pulled my hair out of my face for me and started stroking my face. He did in a way that was different to when dad did it. Chase did it like he was admiring something wonderful in front of me, making me feel so warm inside.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

I glanced away, smiling widely like an idiot. "Chase, stop it."

"Oh, you're not one for the soppy type, huh?"

I giggled. "I am a bit of a sucker for it, actually."

With my hand held tightly in his, I gazed up to the beautiful starlit sky shining down on Gotham. I looked back at Chase, who hadn't took his eyes off me. He was still affectionately caressing my face, and I gently held his hand on my face as he did so. I saw him glance at my lips, and then back into my eyes. I did exactly the same, as I removed my hand from his and let it fall beside me. His other hand then came around my back and I instantly felt a rush that made me step closer to him. Chase removed his hand from my face and joined it up with his other one around my back.

"I love you so much…" he whispered.

My heart pounded. "I…I love _you_…" I whispered back. I was suddenly turning all romantic, which is totally out of my character. "Chase?" I said, softly. "Is this the moment…we…?"

"Shhh…."

And with that, I felt his lips lock onto mine into a gentle kiss. I closed my eyes and felt the surge of butterflies fluttering inside me. Placing my hands on his chest and then up around his neck, I kissed him softly. His lips were like roses, and he held me so delicately like I was a china doll.

That was one of those rare moments in my whole life, I felt so safe and like no one could hurt me. I just felt like a normal young girl with her first love, because I _was_.

For once, I didn't find joy in a scene of crime. I felt joy from such a simple moment of happiness that had little to no action swarming around me.

I didn't have evil corrupting my mind for that one small moment. I didn't even hear voices. Nothing. I felt love.

Just love.


	12. From Lover To Murderer?

_**NOTE: Contains violence, threat and mild sexual content. There's no ****detail**** of sexual activity in here, but it still contains references. **_

* * *

**Chapter 11 - From Lover to Murderer?**

When I arrived home that evening I was unusually quiet. I slumped onto my bed straight away, still in my dress. That beautiful feeling was still filling up inside of me as I beamed up at the ceiling. I gently touched my lips to see if my lipstick hadn't smudged, but it was still perfectly in shape, though it had faded slightly by the end of the night.

That bizarre rush of happiness was still swarming through me, almost like it was refusing to leave me alone. I kept replaying that special moment where Chase kissed me, over and over again in my head, and all it did was make me snuggle up to nothing in particular, grinning happily while I wriggled in a cutie way, although I did cut it out because I didn't want my dress to get creased. I guess I was just over-excited in my tiredness.

Dad peeped through my door about twenty minutes later, wearing his pyjamas but his green-tinged hair was still backcombed like he was dressed for 'work'. I smiled welcomingly as he popped his head round my door.

"Hi, daddy," I sighed happily.

"Hello there, beautiful," Dad grinned. He then came in and shut the door behind him.

My smile faded when I saw he was loosely holding a knife in his hand, making me anxiously sit up and nudge backwards on my bed.

"Dad, wh-why do you have a knife?" I questioned, nervously.

Dad chuckled. "Uhh…because…Shaylee, is this really anything new? Hmm?"

"Well, no, it's just…" I said, backing away some more.

"Shaylee, I'm not gonna hurt ya, am I?" Dad winked at me as he slammed the knife down on my side table. "Don't be silly. Daddy's just got some work done today. Haven't been back that long, still had it in my hand when I came home."

"And it's been glued to your hand ever since?"

"I could say that, although…I had to be _careful _when I got dressed." That's when we both cracked up laughing. Dad looked at me, lovingly when we calmed down. "Stand up for me, Shay," he said. I did so and flipped my hair back when I stood up. Dad's arms became folded as he continued to grin widely at me. "Aw, don't you just look gorgeous?" Dad whispered. "You look just like your mother." I smiled as I looked down at the floor. "Shay?" Dad began to walk over to me as I looked back up at him. "I sense something, ah, strange in you. Hmm?" Dad was now right above me, and his eyes met mine, twinkling with excitement.

"You could say that," I said.

"I think I know what's coming," Dad chuckled.

"What?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I can just tell by your face, Shay. You've gone all _shy_, all of a sudden. Gone all weird. Not like you, is it, hmm?"

"Sorry…sorry."

Dad laughed, loudly as he touched my face. "Don't–don't be sorry! Nothing wrong with it, is there? You gonna tell me what's happened that's made you feel, ah…all _fuzzy _inside? Because that's how you feel isn't it? Hmm?" I couldn't help but grin and glance away, shyly again. "Look at me, sweetheart. Was it Chase, Shaylee?"

I nodded. "Yes, dad," I replied, excitedly.

"I thought so, I thought so…" Dad sniggered under his breath. "Did something happen between you two, huh?"

"Oh, dad, it was _so_…"

"We both knew this day was going to come," Dad interrupted, before sighing heavily. "Now, Shaylee. Be honest with me."

He started pacing up and down my bedroom, looking like he was thinking hard.

"Yes, dad?" I said.

Dad paused for several long moments, as he muttered under his breath. It was like he was struggling to compile a sentence together. I did that often too. I know now that's what the schizophrenia does, it fucks up your speech sometimes. It's so annoying. He then stood still, looking at the wall before him.

"Now. Did he use protection?" he asked, seriously.

I stared at him. "Wh-what?"

"Did you use protection, my love?" He walked up to me again. "Because you know my main priority is to make sure you're safe, isn't it?"

I put my hand over my mouth as I held back my laughter.

"Dad, do you think we had _sex_?!" I snorted into my hand.

"Didn't you just say something _happened_? We _all _know what you teens are like, Shay, always rushing into things. I just want you to, uh…be honest with your old man. I won't be angry, you know."

"Dad, we didn't have _sex_!" I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"Oh. Really?" Dad sounded shocked.

"Yeah! Yes, really. We just _kissed_, that was it." Dad looked at me, curiously. I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm serious!"

"You just kissed?" Dad repeated.

"Y-Yes…yeah. That was it."

"Where?"

"In his garden."

Dad beamed at me as he walked over to me, who was smiling just as wide.

"Aw, honey," Dad said as he kissed my forehead. "Bless ya."

"I can't believe you thought we slept together," I laughed.

"Hey, hey, I'm just looking out for ya. And if you did, I want to know if he's responsible and would protect himself."

"He would…but we didn't, okay, dad? I _swear_."

"I believe you. Just making sure my little girl is okay and if she _is _havin' a little fun, to have fun _safely_."

We both spluttered into giggles.

"Dad, you surely don't think _all _girls my age are having sex, do you?" I asked, still sniggering.

"Ahh…well, _a lot _of them are honey. You know what little brats in Gotham are like, doncha?"

"I guess so. How old were _you_, dad?"

"Hmm?"

"When you did it…you know, uh…for the first time."

"Ahh, well that would be _telling_, wouldn't it?" Dad winked at me.

"Aw, come on, dad…" I whined.

"I did it when the time was right, pumpkin," Dad giggled.

"Was it with mom?"

Dad roared with laughter, making me jump slightly. "No!" he cried. "No, no, no! Aw, bless ya, Shay, so naïve and innocent…"

"I was just asking," I laughed. "You probably fuck a lot of women anyway, dad."

"Hey! Cheeky monkey!" Dad poked my ribcage playfully, making me squeal and collapse onto my bed. "So what if I do anyway? It's not like I'm _with _anyone, is it?"

I composed myself from laughter. "Well…no. But just make sure you're taking care of yourself too, dad."

"Shaylee, I _am _safe! Don't worry. Besides, it doesn't happen _a lot_."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It really _doesn't_. Have ya seen me?"

"You're irresistible," I said in a silly breathy voice, making dad laugh sarcastically.

"Oh shush you," he chuckled, jokingly stroking his hair over his ears and giving a cheeky wink. "It doesn't do my mind much good anyway, Shay, if I _feel _too much…" He shuddered. "To be honest with you, I think my mind isn't _letting _me…you know...have sex. Of course no one can beat your mother in bed, though…"

"Okay, okay…dad can we _please _not talk about this?!" I laughed.

"Yeah, yeah…you're right. Enough of this talk about _mucky _stuff, I'm goin' to bed."

"Me too."

"Sounds like you had a lovely night, anyway, huh? Aw, Shay, get you, gettin' your first kiss an' that."

"Yeah," I sighed. "It was…it was amazing."

"Aw," Dad chuckled, ruffling my hair. "That's my girl."

"What are you planning to do tomorrow?" I asked, stroking my hair back into place.

"Uhh…just thought…I'd uh, go visit Harley."

"Harley?"

My heart suddenly skipped a beat as I stared at dad.

"Yeah…yeah…"

"Who's _that_?"

"You know. Harley." I shook my head, puzzled. Dad sighed and rolled his eyes. "_Harleen_," he whispered, hoarsely.

"Oh. Why did you call her Harley?"

"I thought I told ya? I thought you _knew_…"

"Knew what?!"

"That Harleen…uh…she kinda hates being called that now."

"Why?"

"Because…." Dad sighed again before coming over and locking his eyes into mine. "Remember how I told you that…sometimes…you feel, uh…like someone else? Like it's taking over you? I've told you all about disguises and being a top trickster, right?" I nodded, slowly. "Harleen…is now called Harley…not for _short_…but more for, uh…because she's a new person…like a new identity."

"Like she's someone else?"

"Precisely. Keep a secret for me? She, ah…she wants to be known as Harley Quinn now…instead of Harleen Quinzel…"

"_Harley Quinn_?" I frowned at dad, but he didn't seem to notice it.

"Yep. Got it because she used to be an acrobatic in her day. That's why she's _so good _at getting away. It's fascinating to me…"

"Why are you fascinated with a _murderer_, dad?!"

I sharply turned my head away as I realised what I just said. I felt my head reel slightly. I waited for dad to explode, but to my surprise he maintained his calm demeanour. He locked his fingers onto my chin and forced my head to look at him and I knew he could see the hatred in my eyes.

"Correction," he stated, calmly. "_Ex _murderer."

"Dad, how can you _say _that?! You _can't _say that! She's…"

"Shush, Shaylee…calm down now. She's _fine_…isn't daddy allowed to visit old friends now and again, huh?"

"Yes, but…"

"Hmm?"

Dad's impatient glare made me start to stutter. I held my breath so I didn't begin to see red. I didn't want to. Not after such a wonderful night.

I gulped as I managed to mumble, "But…I don't want you to get hurt…and I'm afraid you _might_ because…of her reputation and her…her, uh…"

"Yes?"

"Her insanity."

Dad scoffed. "Honey, you really think she's going to hurt _me_?" I didn't say anything. "Listen to me. Even if she's _tried_, and oh how she's tried…" He sniggered. "…she could never take me down. Remember how I said Larry taught me everything, yeah? Well, he sorta taught Harley, too...but…she's not as good at it as me."

"Really?"

"Of course. You believe me, don't you?"

"Y-Yeah." Dad grinned at me as he finally removed his fingers from my chin with a harsh yank. "So you're going to see her _tomorrow_?" I asked, a little sadly.

"Yes, Shay."

"I thought _we _were going out tomorrow!"

"We _are_…I'll visit her in the _evening_. She and her friend Pamela want a little hangout with me…"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Ahh, who knows? Might go and uh…do some things. We'll have the _whole _morning together, honey."

"Oh. Okay."

Dad started to make his way out of my bedroom, and as he did I began to unbutton my dress. I twirled around in surprise when dad coughed loudly for my attention. It gave me such a shock I lost the grip on my dress and it fell to my knees, making me squeal and quickly cover myself up, consciously falling onto my bed. Dad sniggered at the sight of my awful attempt to cover myself.

"Careful," he laughed. I looked at him, expectantly, ready for him to leave, but then he spoke, almost in an innocent voice that was rare for dad. "Shay, you're…you're not mad at me, are you, sweetie?"

"About what?"

"About…you know…Harley…"

I secretly felt sick inside my stomach at the thought of dad hanging out with a murderer like Harleen…Harley. But like I've said, I'm _not _stupid. I wouldn't dare tell him what I thought, especially after he'd turned on me up to that point and made me frightened beyond relief.

I simply shook my head, pretending to beam back at him. Dad looked uncertain, but he quietly left the room anyway. I heard him sigh heavily as he walked away from my door, and I did just the same as I stood to my feet and began to dress myself into my skull-patterned pyjamas.

I went in to say goodnight to dad a few minutes later, but he had already fallen asleep. I went washed off my makeup in the bathroom, and as I observed myself the mirror I felt a swarm of different emotions run through me. For some reason, my face looked ghostly pale like I felt nauseous, but because it was dimly lit in the bathroom the whiteness on my face looked staggered, almost like it was painted on. I shook my head vigorously when I saw it and quickly looked away, blinking hard to obtain my normal vision. I noticed one of dad's knives was gleaming up at me by the side of the sink, which I knew dad had obviously cleaned off, as I could still see a tinge of crimson on the end of the blade.

It's crazy how seeing a knife casually lie around our flat was becoming more and more normal. I knew I shouldn't have been alarmed every time I saw one now and then, but I did. It just filled my head with thoughts of what my dad was doing day in and day out. When we went out, he barely used a knife, and when he did use it, he used it for a long time on somebody. I'd seen him hold a few people at knifepoint and give them a good lecture before he told me to look away. Once I did, all I heard then was wails of stabbing pain and then a lifeless body fall on the ground. It was horrifying, but in a way, it sort of wasn't. It was kind of fascinating in some ways. You all think I'm probably mad, don't you? Well I'm not. I may have a slight mental disorder, but I'm not a _maniac_. I have weird thoughts and have a little bit of a sadistic sense of humour, but that doesn't mean I'm _crazy_.

At that moment right there, when I looked in the mirror, I started to believe that dad _was _becoming insane. I thought about it. He'd been a criminal for the majority of the time I'd been on planet earth, he'd got so used to it and it was becoming an addiction. He was hanging out with an insane criminal, which is pretty terrifying, and he seemed to not care at all. But this wasn't just _anyone_. This was the woman who shot the mother of his child. Me.

As my mind started filling up more with thoughts of dad…and mom…I began to feel tears trickling down my cheeks. I heard a loud gunshot explode in my head, then I heard mom's distant yells, followed by Harley's laughter…and then…and then…I heard dad's voice…his hazardous voice.

Why does my mind have to do this to me? Why can't it _leave me alone_? Oh how I wish I was just _normal_. Just a normal fourteen year old girl. Why couldn't I step back to a few hours before where I _did _feel normal? When I was having my first kiss and felt like nothing could ever harm me?

Why _me_?

I hate it. I hate it more than anything in the world.

I quickly grabbed a towel and shoved it into my face, starting to furiously wipe the tears from my eyes. They just wouldn't leave. It kept on replaying until it got louder.

I became defeated.

I sobbed pathetically into the towel, falling to my knees, luckily just missing the knife on the side.

_Why are you crying you worthless little girl?_

"Shut up!" I yelled. "Shut _up_!No! Not again! This is the _last _thing I need right now!"

_Pick yourself up you pathetic coward. Why are you so hysterical about your mom anyway? Wasn't she a drinker?_

"Shut up…"

_A child neglecter?_

"Shut _up_! _No_!"

Before I knew it I was leaning over forwards so my head was against the cold bathroom tile, which appeared to spinning around the room. I kept the towel over my face as I pounded my head against the floor, I didn't care if I was injuring myself. I would jump of a roof if I had to make the voices stop yelling at me.

Thankfully I didn't hallucinate this time. I just heard voices, they weren't thunderous, but they were still rattling until it felt like there was a Ping-Pong ball ferociously spinning my mind out of control. I felt proud when they quietened a little due to my deep breaths and head pounding against the floor, making me remove the towel and sit up onto my knees, pushing my hair backwards. I lifted my head up and allowed the tears to fall down my face. I shut my eyes tightly closed, making even more tears stream out.

"Think of Chase," I murmured to myself. "Think happy…think happy…think _happy_, Shaylee…"

I desperately tried to replay myself and Chase kissing in my mind, but nothing seemed to be connecting.

_Aw, is the poor little girl crying?_

"Fuck _off_! _No_!" I screamed.

I gripped my head again as the voice began to increase in volume. I hoped and prayed help would come my way.

Then I saw a darkened shadow in the doorway which stood high above me before it came dashing over my side. I flinched away, startled when I saw it approach. I was in such a horrific state I didn't realise it was dad.

"Shaylee!" he cried, desperately. "Shay! _Shay_! Look at me! I'm here." I moved away again when he tried to hold me. I was shaking all over, looking at dad like I was looking at the face of death himself. He once again approached me as I continued to curse at the voices, turning away from dad, letting out yells of frustration. "Shaylee!" he said again, trying to pull me backwards by my arm.

"Don't _touch_ me!" I yelled.

"Shaylee, it's me, dad!"

"I _know_!"

"Why won't you look at me? It's okay, honey, I'm here!"

I panted hard before very nervously glancing at dad again, who had by now knelt down to face me. His face was full of worry, and my quivering breaths alarmed him, backing him edge away, slightly. I stared at him. For some reason, I became scared. The thoughts were still running through my mind of dad's insanity. It clung onto my heart and made it pound with fear, and I backed away even more when he loomed over to me again.

"Dad, please…don't…don't hurt me," I whimpered.

Dad's voice cracked. "Baby, it's me…I'm not gonna…oh my _god_…are you hallucinating?"

"_NO_!"

"Shay, calm down…it's okay…it's only me…"

By now I was backed up against the bath, and so there was no escape. Dad towered above me and I let out a little whimper as dad raised his hand.

"No! Dad…don't touch me, please…"

"Shaylee, what's the matter with you?" Dad's voice was quivering. "I'm not gonna hurt you…I would _never_…"

"But…"

"Don't you _dare_ mention that night. That's over. It's okay now. What's the matter, hmm? Come on…" He kneeled down and gently rubbed my leg, which made me inhale sharply. "Sh, shh-shh…" Dad said, softly. "It's okay, sweetheart, I'm here…"

My head started to gradually clear as I continued to look at dad. I aggressively wiped away my tears and started fidgeting around, taking deep breaths. Dad continued to stroke my leg and shush soothingly, which helped me to calm down. My vision became clearer as it had been blurry because of my tears. I saw dad's face was full of hurt and I looked right into his eyes, which were almost filling up with tears themselves.

"Are you okay now?" Dad asked, gently.

"Y-Yeah…" I said, shakily. "I just…"

"Voices again?"

I nodded frantically, until I couldn't hold it back anymore. I lunged onto dad, sobbing into his chest and wrapping my arms around him. He held me close, rocking me back and forth.

"I'm sorry this keeps happening, dad," I mumbled onto him. "I…I _know _I shouldn't listen…"

Dad clung me tighter. "Why? What did they _say_?"

I cried a little more even though I could have screamed. "Nothing…I…I just saw the knife, and…"

"What knife?" Dad asked, sharply.

"The one on the side there…"

I felt dad move it head briskly backwards. "Oh, I see…"

"Dad…it…it sounds pathetic and I know you _hate _to see me act like this…"

"Hey, hey, hey….shh-hh…I won't be angry, I just want to know, okay?"

I sniffled as I forced my head up to look at him, which he allowed. I shut my eyes to drown out the last remaining voices.

"It just…it made me think of…of you…you know…and how you use it all the time…" Dad looked puzzled, but nodded nevertheless. "And…and I heard mom and…Harleen…sorry _Harley_…and it just triggered everything…they were calling me worthless…"

"You are _not_."

"I _know _I'm not, but they make me think otherwise!"

"I've _told _you not to listen to them, haven't I?!"

"Yes, and I _don't_, dad…don't shout at me…but they just wouldn't _stop_…you _know _this happens all the time."

"You say…_I _came to mind?"

"Not really…just about how you use a knife and you kill people…"

"Only people who aren't worth my time."

"I know, and…and it's fine…but…I don't know. It's just the thoughts of Harley…and…and mom…"

"Oh, come 'ere, sweetheart." Dad pulled me into a tight hug and kissed me lightly on my head. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's all over now, huh? Come on."

"I'm sorry, dad…"

"What for? Hey, come on, don't be so hard on yourself…"

"I just _hate_ crumbling in front of you…you've taught me to be tough and not let anyone break me and then this happens…"

"Hey now, Shaylee, shush…this is _different_. This is something you can't help. Haven't you noticed? This is the only time you're _ever _weak…it's the same for me, isn't it? Isn't it?"

"I…guess so…but yours is worse than mine…"

"I'm not sure about that anymore."

"What?"

"Shaylee…" Dad sighed, sadly.

"You're the one who won't send me to a doctor."

Dad immediately changed the subject. "What you need is a cuddle to getcha to sleep, hmm? You wanna sleep in my bed tonight? I'll make ya feel better, princess."

"Uhh…"

"You can pretend I'm Chase."

We both suddenly erupted into laughter.

"Oh, dad…" I laughed. "I'm _so _glad you're not mad."

"No. I'm not." Dad instantly stopped laughing.

"No, no…I mean…mad at _me_…like _angry_."

"Why would I be angry? Eh?" Dad winked at me as he lifted up my chin. I finally managed to grin at him. "Now, come on, it's very late. Let's go to sleep, beautiful." Dad stood up, but I didn't find the strength inside of me to get up, too. I rubbed my head so the last little clanging my head drifted away. I looked up to see dad standing in the doorway, smirking at me. I groaned as I flopped my arms on my knees, tiredly. "Are you coming then, Shay?" he asked, brightly. "We have a little outing tomorrow and you don't wanna be _tired_,do you?"

"No, dad," I said, rubbing my eyes. "But I also don't want my brain racking tomorrow either."

"It won't. You're okay now, aren't ya?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just don't want to be reminded of it, really."

"You won't be, baby. Now, Shay, am I going to have to carry you like a five-year-old again?" I beamed at dad, giving him a childish smile and I nodded, fluttering my eyelashes ingenuously. Dad laughed and came sauntering over to me. "Come on, then, little one." He groaned loudly as he picked me up off the ground. Like I _was _five, I nestled into his chest as he carried me out of the bathroom, using his elbow to switch the light off.

He gently placed me on his bed, and tucked me in. I settled peacefully into dad's double bed (he used to share it with mom) as he went and shut the door, flicking the light off. I got into bed so silently that I didn't even hear him get in next to me.

I swear I saw my life flash in front of me when I heard dad shout "Rah!" as I received a sharp buzz to my belly. I squealed loudly and then I heard dad sniggering like a ten-year-old schoolboy. I felt the covers squirming as dad rolled about laughing, loudly.

"Dad!" I shouted, before I started laughing too.

"Oh, that was just _too _priceless!" Dad snickered. "Did I give you a fright, huh?"

I then leaped on top of him, and although I could only faintly see him, I found his head, using all my strength to pin him down into a headlock as I lay on my belly, kicking my legs crazily in the air as I held him there, and we were both still guffawing playfully.

"Dad, you little shit!" I howled, grinning. "You did that on purpose!"

"Of course I did!" Dad chuckled. He struggled to move but I kept his head down. "Let me go, Shaylee!" He spluttered into laughter, making me do the same until my stomach hurt. I ended up laughing so hard that I was too weak to hold him. I rolled onto my back and let my laughter gorgeously ring throughout the bedroom as dad broke free. "Ha-ha!" Dad teased. "Made ya let go!"

"Oh, shut up," I giggled.

"Still, that was a smart move, Shay."

"What do you mean?"

"That headlock was forceful as fuck."

"That was the point!"

Dad paused as I felt him pinch my cheek. "You're not _really _scared of me, are ya?"

"No, I'm not. Only when…you know…_that _happens, when you breakdown, but…but anyway. No I'm not scared of _you_. Don't know what happened to me tonight…"

"Stupid schizo–"

"_But_...I always show you I'm not a whiny bitch. Always gotta come back strong, ya know dad?" I gave him a cheeky wink, despite not being able to see him properly.

"Ah-ha! That's my girl! Showin' me what ya made of!" Dad then grabbed me and harshly knuckled my head, making me squirm frantically. Then he loosened his grip until he just had his arm around me and we were calmly looking up at the ceiling. Once I'd calmed myself, I rested my head on his shoulder and began to close my eyes, though I was still chuckling to myself. I felt dad's head move. "Feel better now, Shay?" he asked.

"Much better, thank you daddy," I answered.

"Oh, good."

"You always make me feel better after a breakdown."

"And you me."

"Hey, we gotta have each other's back's, haven't we, dad?"

"Well said, Shaylee. And uh…I'm sorry about the cause of your…"

"Dad, I'd…rather not talk about it. It'll only make me think about it more and I'll get mad at myself. I'll get mad at Harleen…I mean Harl-_ey_."

"You shouldn't be mad at her, Shay. You've never even met her."

"I don't _need _to meet her."

"Maybe ya will one day."

"You said I couldn't go out with you two."

"I know but, uh…ya never know. Maybe you will. Besides, weren't you the one last month asking if you could join us and seemed so excited about it?"

"That was only because at the time I was so eager to go out, I didn't really care then. I didn't think straight. I guess I was just in a better mood. I don't why I said it, to be honest…maybe I was just showing off, dad."

"Huh, some things never change."

"Not if you have a fucked up mind."

Dad chuckled and hugged me closer, pulling the covers over us both.

"Let's _not _think about it, huh?" Dad whispered. "Let's sleep and forget about it. Remember the _good _thing that happened tonight."

I beamed brightly. "Yeah…" I paused. "Dad?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I think…no, I _know_…I _really _like him."

"Aw, Shay, I know ya do. If you get together, I want to know. Gotta make sure he's looking after you and he's not a total coward."

"I'm sure he would look after me."

"Not as good as me though, huh, Shay?"

"Of course not, daddy."

Dad giggled. "Night, night, my number one."

"Night, dad."

I kept having strange nights like these. One minute, I would feel like I'm in unknown world of happiness, the next minute I'm hearing sheer terror in my mind and screaming the pain away. Then suddenly I'm happy and joking around again. One thing that was good at about these schizophrenic breakdowns is that they didn't last the entire night. Sometimes they did last for several minutes, the longest one I had up to that point was the one where I set the class on fire because I totally lost my cool, but when they were over they seemed like they never happened, unless they were triggered again shortly after.

It was hard not to talk about 'Harley', as every time I did something crazy happened. Dad either went all funny with me, or I started to go mad. The more I thought about it, the more and more disgusted I became with the fact dad was 'hanging out' with her when it was her who killed my mom. It was so hard to keep my mouth shut about it, but I knew if I bombarded my opinions at dad he would get seriously angry. I wasn't sure why he defended an insane woman, but maybe it was because he was turning insane too. For real. But I didn't want to think about it. Surely if he was turning crazy then he would start neglecting and abusing me, right? He never did that. He wouldn't dare, because he knows it would start tormenting my mind again.

The next day, dad woke me up at 9am and we did the usual preening ourselves, nibbling on something small and packing all of our weaponry before we headed out. We only decided to stay in the town that day as dad wanted to avoid the commotion in the City which was highly surprising. All we did was steal a bit of money from a shop's counter, which doesn't sound like much but it was a hell of a load of fun. Dad literally gave me a piggy-back ride as we sprinted away into the street to make our getaway. I was screaming at the top of lungs, showing off the money I had in my grasp. _And _we got away with it. We were close getting away that time. Some guy stopped us in our tracks and demanded the money. Not sure why he thought he had the right, but never mind. Dad asked me to hold the guy with a gun as he loaded the money into a car we were borrowing, and as usual, he made me look away before he dad shot the guy in the head, and then shoving his body behind a fence, which of course I questioned, but dad seemed to shake it off, like he always does.

Dad let me keep half the money we'd stolen as a reward when we returned home. I decided I'd buy myself a new drawing pad, as I was determined to get myself back into my art work again. I even considered restarting _The Adventures of Jane the Slave _comic.

As dad sat and watched a movie, I wiped off all my makeup and started to take my pigtails out in front of mom's dressing table mirror. It was then I heard my phone vibrate in my room (yes it vibrates that loudly).

I immediately knew it was Chase.

I dashed out of the room, still with one pigtail tightly in place. I flipped up my phone to discover my predication was correct.

Chase's text read: _'Hey tiger, just thought I'd see how you are and if you wanna see each other real soon? I can't stop thinking about you. Last night was so amazing, you made my birthday just that little extra special. I'm SO glad you don't wanna hold back anymore, but if you want to see each other real soon, just give me a call? It'll probably have to be a weekend though as I have to focus on school as well :(. And remember, if you have anything you want to tell me, you can, I'm here always. See you soon xx. P.S. This video game is so awesome that mom had to bring my breakfast to my room ;) x'_

I beamed brightly, looking at the text in my hand. I kept re-reading it for the rest of the day, which dad joked about when we had dinner. I made the dinner that day. I was doing it more often now, as dad seemed to be getting worse at doing simple tasks like that. I didn't question it, but luckily Julia had taught me a few things about cooking so I managed to make simple little meals for us both. Dad joked about how I would come in handy when I had to look after a man myself. I said that I would probably never get married, but if I did live with a guy I'd expect him to do just as much as me. Partnerships are all about equality, am I wrong?

When dad left after dinner to visit Harley, I grumbled on the sofa and kept an eye on the news as I sat and draw on the last two pages of my current drawing pad. I was astonished when nothing came up about her or dad. That didn't stop that James Gordon from showing his gob on the news, though, going on about Gotham Police Force are going to try and improve their order. That made me laugh. It'd be a hundred years before they 'improved.'

After the news had finished, I decided to give Chase a call. He answered almost immediately, the phone only rang twice.

"Hey, Shay!" he said, brightly.

"Oh…oh hey, Chase," I said, slightly startled.

"What's up? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…thought I'd give you a call to make arrangements to meet up? Sorry I didn't reply to your text, uh…got a little distracted…"

"Oh that's okay, by what?"

"By that text."

Chase laughed. "Oh well, I try." I chuckled along with him. "So you okay?"

"Yeah…I'm great. You?"

"After last night, I'm…I'm wonderful."

I felt myself blushing. "Me too." I don't know how, but I just felt him smile down the other end of the phone. "Thank you for everything last night," I said.

"No problem…and Shay…"

"Yeah?"

"I meant every word I said, you know."

"And me."

We both giggled shyly for a few moments before Chase continued. "So when you want to meet?"

"Didn't you say weekends were best?"

"They'd be better, yeah."

"Okay then, I'll try and do Saturday. Depends on what me and my dad are doing, but it should be okay."

"Sounds great."

"Yeah…maybe we could have a go on that game I bought you?"

"Oh yeah! Yeah, I'll teach you, it's so cool!"

"I knew you'd love it. Oh and by the way, is it okay for your mom to try and dye my hair again. This blonde seems to be fading now. I've got a new one, so…"

"Should be no problem."

"…Chase?"

"Yeah?"

"You…you're amazing, you know."

"No, _you _are."

"I'm really not.

"Oh we're not going to start this argument, are we? You're amazing and that's that."

I giggled as I sat myself up. "I can't be bothered arguing right now."

"Good." Chase began to stammer. "Uh…Shay?"

"Yes?"

"On Saturday…you know if I see you…I'll need to ask you something…"

I grinned widely. "Oh really?"

"Yeah…"

"Chase, listen, if you're gonna ask me what I think you're going to, you might as well ask me now, because…I have the answer."

"I'd rather ask you face to face."

I felt the butterflies fluttering inside me again. "Oh. Okay then, tiger."

Chase chuckled. "Okay, well…I'll see you Saturday then?"

"I can't wait."

"Me neither. See ya, Shaylee…"

"See ya."

"Wait, Shay…."

"Yeah?"

"I…"

"Hmm?"

"I…I love you…"

I sighed lovingly. "I love you, too, Chase."

"Do you really?"

"Of course I do." Chase chuckled, timidly. "Chase? Are you okay?"

"Oh…I'm _more _than that, Shaylee."

"Aw, bless ya. Well, I'll see you soon."

"Night, night tiger."

I ended the call and let out a squeal of delight as I jumped up and down on the sofa in excitement. Looking up at the ceiling, I allowed the fuzzy feeling to warm me up inside. It certainly helped because it made me fall asleep minutes later.

I did meet Chase that Saturday to do exactly as we'd planned. We sat in front of his huge television screen and competitively played on Chase's highly addictive new video game. It turned out to be more complicated than I imagined, having this plotline that involved tracking down this criminal mastermind. Chase ended up completing all the stages on his own. He didn't laugh at the fact I was so useless at it, instead he just tried to help me, despite hardly any of it paying off.

Julia popped her head round the door halfway through the game session. Chase remained glued to the game, pretending he hadn't seen her.

"Hi, Julia," I greeted.

"Hi, sweetheart," Julia said, smiling. She then rolled her eyes at Chase who was still bashing out the keys on the controller. "Chase!" she addressed, sharply.

Chase paused the game and shot his head towards his mom.

"Yes, mother?" he said, in a silly camp voice making me snort with laughter, and Chase chuckled along with me.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Julia said, giggling herself, "but I was just wondering when Shaylee wants her hair done?"

"Uhh…" I looked at Chase for answers.

"You want it done now?" he asked, smiling.

"Uhh…well I don't mind, I mean…if it's okay…" I said, not wanting to interrupt the game.

"Of course it is," Chase said.

"Okay then, Julia," I said. "I'll have it done now, if that's okay."

"Sure. We'll do it in the kitchen."

Julia led us both into Chase's kitchen which made the one in my flat look stupidly small. I sat down and Julia began the process of dyeing my hair, which I gave to her from my bag. Chase took a seat and watched me, as he stared at me with his beautiful emerald eyes.

About halfway through the process, Julia blurted out, "You know Shaylee, my son is quite find of you."

Chase put his face into his hands in embarrassment, making me laugh.

"Uhh…what makes you think that?" I asked, grinning at Chase, who put his hand over his mouth and slightly shaking his head.

"Well, I know you two have always got on really well," Julia went on. "You've always been best friends, and now you're both growing up, I was just wondering if anything more will happen between the two of you."

"Mom!" Chase groaned.

"What? I've always said to you that Shaylee is a lovely girl and I'd be over the moon if you two decided to give it go."

I couldn't help but snicker at the fact she called me 'lovely.' Didn't she know what I did in school?

"Mom…" Chase mumbled. "You like to say your opinions, don't you?"

"I'm only saying what you're thinking, son."

"I guess you're right though, mom." Chase then winked at me, but Julia said nothing more about it.

Julia continued with the process until I rinsed my hair in their kitchen sink. I put my hair in a towel while it dried, and Chase and I immediately went back to the video game while Julia got us some snacks.

I waited and waited for Chase to ask me the all important question the whole night, but nothing appeared to come out. I eventually gave up on the fact he was going to ask me out, making me feel miserable inside. Maybe he was a coward after all. How was I going to tell dad _that_?

That was, until it got to the end of the night, and we both went out into the garden for a cigarette, by now I'd let my damp hair loose on my shoulders. We sat on the very same bench we did just a few days before and I noticed Chase couldn't stop fidgeting about while I remained very still as I smoked tensely.

Chase eventually flicked his finished ciggy away, and then turned his head to me, leaning his arms on his knees. I had also put mine out by then. I smiled brightly at him, and he almost instantly sat up straight and took both my hands, making my heart beat fast.

"You know you're really lucky," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"My mom is usually very wary of girls I meet, they have to be really special for her to like them."

"Wow, really? I'm very grateful, you know I am, if only she knew the horror I did back in middle school…"

"I think it's best if we don't tell her. I told her you'd left school because you're being home-schooled now, and she actually believed me."

"Really?" I laughed. "She didn't even hear about it on the news or anything?"

"She doesn't watch it. She's not really interested in what's going on in Gotham because it's the same all the time. Crime at every corner."

"Yeah," I sighed, trying not to smirk.

Chase then pulled me up to our feet, still holding my hands. I held my breath as I waited for him to say something.

"So, Shay…" he began, nervously, looking at his feet.

"Chase? Look at me," I said.

Our eyes met and I felt a swarm of that unusual soppy feeling soar through me like a wave.

"Shaylee…" Chase continued. "There's been something I've been wanting to ask you for a long time, and now I know we both have this mutual feeling…I, I feel it's time to ask." I said nothing. I just continued to grin excitedly at him. "Shay, will you..."

"Chase…" He raised his eyebrows, questionably. "I think I know what you're going to ask me…"

"Do you really?" he asked grinning. I giggled. "What is it then, baby girl?"

I beamed, excitedly, feeling that wonderful fuzzy feeling again. "Will I be your girlfriend? Hmm?"

Chase then blushed and chuckled as he sheepishly glanced away. He nodded his head before looking up at me with his heartthrob smile.

I couldn't help myself as I leaped onto him, shrieking excitedly. Chase effortlessly spun around in circles as he laughed, happily. We didn't care that the remaining wetness in my hair flicked onto our faces.

"Yes!" I squealed. "Yes I will!"

Chase put me down and then widened his eyes in excitement.

"Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised, dickhead," I laughed.

"It's just…God I…I was so worried you'd say no."

"Why would I say no?"

"Because…I don't know…"

"You worry too much, don't you?"

"Only about my mom and you."

I squeezed his hand tighter. "You're so lucky you have a mom like her."

"And you're lucky you have a dad like yours."

I chuckled. "Yeah…yeah." I paused as I looked into his gleaming eyes, which were fixated on mine. "I'm so happy…" I whispered.

Chase then gently stroked my face, showing me his gorgeous smile, making the beam on my face impossible to leave. He flipped his fringe over his eye, which always made me feel weak to the knees.

"So am I," he said.

"Oh my god, how soppy do we sound right now?" I chuckled.

"Very," Chase laughed. "But that's okay, isn't it?"

"This is like something out of a movie."

We both laughed as Chase rested his head against mine to calm down. I couldn't help but lift my head so my face brushed against his and before I knew it we were in a gentle kiss. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to transport into that rare world of happiness.

This kiss was different to the first one, because, well we just couldn't stop. The first kiss only lasted about ten seconds, this one felt like we were kissing for minutes. It wasn't that long of course, but I allowed myself to explore kissing as I wasn't used to it. Chase was the only boy I had kissed up to that point, but that doesn't mean to say he'd kissed other girls before me. I knew he had at parties when he'd got drunk. You could tell he had, because he was good at it. Okay, he was _better _than good. It was almost like he was professional, yet he was only sixteen.

It got to the point where I was practically on my toes as I kissed him, because the adrenaline rush kicked in and made me so enthusiastic. I could feel it from him, too. I felt him smiling.

When we finally came out of it, we paused for a very long time. We just looked at each other. I was so glad my mind wasn't doing anything horrible at that moment, as we all know what happens.

Chase then started to stroke my hands. I knew he was trying to say something, but he voice appeared to be shaking.

"Are you okay?" I asked, gently.

Chase beamed at me. "I'm wonderful." His voice cracked and he immediately looked down at the floor.

I latched into a hug. "Aw, Chase, don't start crying now, you'll make me start," I giggled.

Chase held me close. "I'm fine, I don't know what you're talking about," he laughed. We stayed there for a few spine-tingling moments. "Shall we go tell my mom?" Chase asked.

I perked up my head at him.

"If you really want to," I replied.

"I think she'll want to know."

"Okay then. Chase…am I going to have to go soon?"

"Why what time do you need to be home?"

"It doesn't really matter. I want to be home in time for my dad, though, because…I just need to make sure he'd okay. I need to make us something to eat, too, because he promised me he'd be back in time."

"Well you _have _been here for hours. Probably getting bored of me, aren't you?"

"No!"

We shared a giggle as he kissed my forehead, gently, which made me giggle even more. Chase pulled away and then comically held out his hand towards me.

"My lady?" he beamed.

I did a silly curtsey as I smiled back at him. "Good sir," I said in a stupid posh voice.

I took his hand and we trotted back into the house. Julia was in the kitchen, cleaning up. She was absolutely overjoyed when Chase informed her of our relationship, squealing like a teenage girl would at a boyband concert. She came and gave us both a tight hug, stating how proud she was of us both and that she just _knew _it. She almost started crying, but Chase comforted her, like the decent guy he really is. Do all parents say things like 'I just knew it'? That's exactly what dad said.

I wonder what my mom would have thought of Chase. Maybe she would have been too drunk to realise he was there, but I guess she would have liked him. If she could fall in love with someone as troublesome as dad then I guess she could have taken a liking to Chase.

Julia took me home in the car about half an hour later.

"I guess we'll see you soon, Shaylee," she said, as we pulled up on the street where the long line of flats were.

"Yes, I'm sure you will," I replied as I undid my seatbelt. I then looked at Chase, who was holding onto my hand. "See you soon then, tiger," I beamed.

"Mm-hmm," Chase nodded. He then leaned in closer, obviously wanting a kiss, to which of course I obliged. I thought it was going to be a little peck on the lips, but Chase being Chase, he had to give me a full-on passionate kiss on the back seat. I giggled as he kissed me, leaning in closer to him, until he was touching my face as we did it.

"Okay, okay, okay….Chase," Julia called. "I know you two are young and in love and it's all lovely but save all that for when you're alone."

We pulled away from each other as we both sniggered mischievously. I lightly rubbed away my lipstick mark on Chase's lips, before opening the car door.

I turned back to Chase. "I love you," I said, happily.

"I love_ you_," Chase repeated, giving me a wink. "Have a good night."

"You too, hon." I stepped out of the car with my bag swinging on my arm. "Thanks Julia!"

"Not a problem, honey, see you soon," Julia said.

I shut the door behind me and waved joyously to my boyfriend, as the car reversed and then speeded down the road.

Dad wasn't home when I came back in the flat, but I assumed he'd arrive very soon. He came home as I was blow-drying my hair in front of the dressing table mirror. Not greeting me, he walked into sitting room, throwing his pointy shoes off into the corner and repeatedly ruffling his frizzy hair, which appeared to once again be showing his natural brown roots. I switched off the hairdryer as I watched him slump on the sofa, wearing one of his purple coats. He sat there very quietly, with an expression of sadness spread across my face. It made my head start to spin with questions, so I nervously put down the hairdryer as I turned to face him.

"Are you okay, dad?" I asked, timidly. His head slowly turned to face me, but his expression didn't change. He sighed heavily, beginning to fiddle around on the sofa. "Dad, what's wrong?" I asked again, making my voice have a sharper edge.

"I'm fine," he said.

"You don't seem fine."

"I'm _fine_." He sighed and leaned on his hand. "Oh, Shaylee…" he said, gloomily.

I instantly rushed to his aid. "What's the matter?" I tried to lean on him, affectionately, but he flinched away.

"Nothing, it's just…"

"Please tell me…"

"Ah-da-da-da…let me speak. Just had a shitty day, that's all. Harley went all crazy…"

"Oh for goodness sake."

"And don't you make a comment about that! She just kept going on and on and on about the past and…when your mother was brought into it…I just…"

"What did you do?"

"I, uh…I hit her."

I wasn't really sure what to say. "Oh. Oh right."

"Punched her right in her eye sockets and she tries to pin me down with bazooka."

"A _bazooka_?" I was flabbergasted. "Really?"

"This _is_ Harley we're talking about." Dad managed to smile.

"I know, but…oh my god, she didn't hurt you, did she?!"

"Of course not, I just threw her against the wall. We were in Ivy's bedroom at the time."

"Ivy?"

"Yeah, Harley's friend."

"I thought that was Pamela."

"It _was_…well, _I _thought it was. Got a hammering from her today saying how that wasn't her name no more. It's Ivy now, I don't know, I kinda like Pamela better."

"What is it with everyone changing their names? She must be crazy, too."

"No she's not." Dad's voice became sharp. "No…she's _not_. Maybe a little, but who cares? She still not as mad as Harley."

"Why are you so upset then, dad?"

"I'm not. I don't feel anything."

I staggered away slightly, beginning to feel my heart beat. I knew he was lying, but the way his voice became suddenly made me nervous.

"Was it the fact that mom was brought into it?" Dad remained silent. "Harley has a _nerve_ to talk about her." I slumped down onto the sofa, folding my arms and staring deviously ahead of me. I suddenly felt a swarm of hatred inside of me. "Scummy little murderer," I hissed under my breath. "Scum of the earth."

"Alright, that's enough," Dad said, abruptly. I sighed in annoyance. "Yes, Shay, it was the fact your mom was brought up and it made me go a little crazy at her but I'm fine, now, really."

"Did you have a breakdown?"

"I'm much more interested in what _your _day was like." I glanced at dad, who had now formed a smile on his lips, though he still sort of glared at me like I was a misbehaving little kid.

"But, dad…" I stammered.

"I'd rather not talk about it, sweetie. It's…it's hard and I _hate _getting all emotional, it's starting to _bug _me. So, if you don't mind…"

"Okay."

I knew I should stand up to my view but I didn't want to provoke dad anymore, as I could feel his stressful presence which is always ugly if it spins out of control.

"Come 'ere, you," he said, outstretching his arm. "Give me a cuddle. It'll cheer me up." I tensely nestled up to him and cuddled him around the belly, and he swooped his arm around my shoulder. "So, Shay," he continued, "did Chase finally get the balls to ask you out, then, hmm?"

I grinned as my face gleamed with happiness.

"Well, dad…yes…yes he did."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "And you said yes?" I nodded excitedly and then dad squeezed me tight, all of sudden having an enthusiastic persona. "Aw!" he squealed. "_Finally_. So he _has_ got balls, huh?"

"Dad! We've only held it back this long because _I _was scared! So it's not his fault. It's mine."

"Ah, Shay, bless ya." He pulled me in a bit closer by my shoulders, then lifting up my chin so I was looking at him right in the eyes. "I'm happy for ya, Shay."

"Oh, I'm so glad…" I sighed with relief.

"Shush, shush, shush…nah, I really am happy. Glad my little one has got a nice enough boy who isn't completely frigid and at least has _some _fight in him."

"He's not a pussy, dad. He _told _me he beat up Alex. He's had fights in school, he argues a lot with people as well. Not me, though."

"Good on 'im, showing them whose boss. It's almost like you're _made_ for each other, Shay. _And_…he'll look after ya."

"I'm sure he will."

"So, honey, when am I gonna meet your Prince Charming, huh?"

My heart missed a beat. I stared at dad in shock realisation.

"Uhh…well, uh…"

"Shay, I want to see if this guy's for real and make sure he'll look after my little girl, don't I? Make sure he's a responsible young man."

"Well, dad…uhh…maybe some time soon, then. It all depends when, uh…he's free."

"When will that be?"

"I don't know. Look, dad, wouldn't it be best if we had a few months to get used to each other first…?"

"_Get used to each other_?" he chuckled. "My darling, you've known him since you were eight years old! Surely you are used to him by now."

"I know, but…I mean get used to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. _I've _got to make sure he's perfect for me first before I let him face you, because after seeing you take on Darren Lyons that day I know you're gonna be pretty brutal with guys in my life."

"Correct." Dad sighed, as his smile showcased his foul teeth, making me wince slightly. "Maybe you're right. Although you've been saying for _months _that he's some kind of god-like boy who has no faults."

"Dad, haven't you always taught me to check things before I make a move?"

I smirked at dad, who burst into laughter at my statement. I giggled along with him too, as he hugged me close.

"Oh, Shay, you _do _make me laugh," he stated. "Such a little joker, you are. Take after me, doncha?" I nodded. "Alright then, I trust you, but I want to meet him very soon."

"But _how_?"

"Well he'll just have to pop round for a drink one night won't he?"

I became open-mouthed. "You'd actually let him come _here_?"

"Yes, now he is your boyfriend, I can accept that. I just don't want your friends round here, Shay, because you know if it gets too _loud _my mind might get funny with it. Lots of funny memories with that. I guess I'll have to buy some earplugs for when you two are in your bedroom."

I spluttered into laughter, hitting dad on the arm as he laughed just as hard.

"Dad! Don't just assume that's going to happen straight away!"

"If you're anything like your mother, you'll be straight in there."

"_Dad_!"

We both continued to howl with laughter, completely forgetting the fact that dad had come home feeling depressed.

Once we'd calmed down, I asked, "Right dad, fancy some food, then?"

"That would be _marvellous_, sweetheart," he cried. "Oh and, uh…I was thinking…"

"Yeah?"

"How about a campfire night? Tomorrow, maybe?"

I leaped onto dad like I was ten again.

"Yes please, daddy!" I squealed.

Dad laughed as he gently pulled me off him. "Okay, okay, consider it done. Haven't had one in a long time, thought it'd be nice to have a little catch-up. Think of it as a celebration for your new relationship."

"Sounds good to me!"

"Look at me, precious." I did so, smiling brightly. He started to pull my newly-dyed hair behind my ears and caress my face. "I'm so proud of you, Shaylee," he said. "Such a smart young girl you are. Coping so well with all the shit in your mind _and _around you. Thank goodness you have two wonderful men in your life, huh?"

"I don't know where I'd be without you, dad."

"Rotting in Gotham's orphanage, that's where you'd be. And if you _did_ end up there, I'm not saying you will, but if you _did_…I know I could rely on you to show the little fight you have to everyone."

"Sometimes I just can't control myself."

Dad sighed. "Our stupid minds, eh? They just ruin _everything_."

"Make us do things…"

"And _feel _things we don't wanna feel."

"I'm sick of feeling for others. I only feel about you and Chase…and mom. That's it."

"Good girl. You're too right." He kissed me gently on my head. "Now, food?"

"Certainly."

I text Chase just before I went to sleep that night about what dad had asked me about and what I'd decided to do. Chase said he was thankful I said to wait a while because he was nervous about meeting dad. I'd told him he was a little over-protective in some respects.

It was becoming clear to me that dad was becoming somewhat depressed. He came home most nights and grumbled about something or other, but in a way he hadn't done before. He looked like he was going to breakdown crying a lot of the time, but he never did. It was obviously the thought of mom that was depressing him, or the fact that as I was growing older I began to start looking more like her. I think that messed with his head, but it's something I couldn't help. It was sort of strange that he was showing more serious signs of missing her four years after she died, but like I said, I think it was me looking like her that made dad miss her even more. I've always said I hate seeing him like that, but this was on another level, even starting to make me feel his sadness. Luckily, I had Chase and my friends to at least cheer me up when I felt like hanging out but dad didn't seem to have that. He had friends, but not _real _friends like I did. He had criminal friends, who I guess he saw as people he worked with rather than shared a friendship with. Maybe the stress of getting caught and me being taken away was another factor, but dad was careful to talk about that, as was I. I didn't want to think about it. I certainly didn't want it _happening_.

Dad and I made a deal the next day during our campfire evening: that I could see Chase on Fridays and Saturdays and the rest of the week we would go out when we felt like it. Spending time with Chase was magical, I always felt like I was a different girl to when I hung out with dad. With dad, I felt like a partner in crime. With Chase, I felt like a normal fourteen year old girl that was in love, because I _was_. Chase looked after me, and continued with his education, really getting stuck into his art work, but that was the only thing he concentrated on. He didn't bother studying for anything else, which I know his mom got annoyed about, but Chase said art was the only thing he wanted to get a high grade in. On Saturdays, I would help him with some of his little sketches he had to complete for projects, one time creating a huge portrait of a beach that had to use materials in it, as well as just normal paint and pencils. Some Saturday nights, we went out to Jason's (who by the way was the first person to know about me and Chase), but he made sure he didn't invite Alex. Alex was now a high-school dropout anyway who spent all his time smoking marijuana. Chelsea's fifteenth birthday saw me and Chase kiss in front of everyone for the first time, which of course everyone took pictures of. I almost punched Chelsea when she wouldn't delete them off her phone, but I eventually did it myself.

As the months went by, I continually kept watching the news to see if anything about 'Harley' would come up. I don't know why I was so interested, but I wanted to know if she'd been caught. She deserved to be caught and locked up forever. There were a few times she was on the news, one time about how she and this Ivy woman robbed a gym's expensive equipment. Dad admitted to me later that he was involved with it, but he denied it at first. He didn't need to deny it, I would have guesses he'd have done it anyway. He didn't bring back any of the equipment to our flat as Harley took it all for herself.

I started to get more and more frustrated about her. I just wanted her out of the way and out of my dad's life. She was a distraction. I loved being with dad when we went out and provided for us in the fun way, but Harley seemed to be getting more of his attention now. I know my dad was considered the scum of Gotham but she topped all of the lists. She was a monster, not necessarily doing _such _monstrous things like blowing buildings up and threatening to kill masses of citizens, but she left a child motherless.

Why? Why _did _she do that?

Was it because she had a legitimate reason to hate her? Because she was jealous? Because she's just plain crazy who has no empathy?

But of course, I never argued about it with dad.

It came to the end of April, and my fifteenth birthday was coming up. Harley still hadn't been caught, neither had this Ivy, but dad hadn't either. Three days before my birthday (a Monday), me and dad had gone out and he took me to the very same gym he'd stolen from. We didn't steal equipment, just some money, but I nicked some energy drinks as well. It was the most we'd had in a while, as dad was joking around on the equipment pretending he was a customer. He even made me help him on the equipment so we convinced the people in there we were there to exercise. Of course, dad kept going for ages with his insane amount of energy, as I casually nicked some dollars right under someone's nose. It's crazy how far dad would go to get what he wanted, it made me realise how sometimes you have to go pretty far to get what you want.

The day before my birthday, Chase text me, requesting we go out for a meal for my birthday to this super-posh restaurant in the City and that he'd pay for everything. At first I got nervous because I'd never been on a date like that before, but at the same time, I was up for all the romantic stuff and showing off my relationship in front of people.

That night, I went in to see dad who was lying on his bed, fiddling with his clothes. He hadn't talked much that day, as he "didn't want to give anything away and keep it as a surprise for my birthday." Surprisingly, dad smiled pleasantly as I came in a shut the door behind me.

"Hi, baby," he said, cheerfully, starting to fidget on the bed a little more.

"Dad, I, uh…just messaged Chase…"

"Oh yes?"

"And uh…he wants to take me out for my birthday tomorrow. To Johnny's, you know the Italian place in the City?"

Dad smirked at me, and I did the same back.

"Oh, isn't that lovely?" he giggled. "Decent guy. I'd have never done something like that for your mother."

My smile slowly disappeared. "Oh. Oh, why…why's that?" I asked.

"I don't know, she wasn't really one for going out on a romantic date and that. We spent most of our time sitting in this flat, just talking."

"Me and Chase do that all the time, he just thought because it's my birthday he'd treat me."

"Aw, well that's, uh…_nice_, isn't it?"

I nodded. "So can I go?"

"Of course, of course…" I grinned and began to make my way out but dad stopped me in my tracks. "Ah-ah-ah…hang on a second, Shay."

I slowly turned around to face him again. "Yes, dad?"

"Just thinking…you've been together about three months now, hmm?" I nodded. "Well, uh…is now the opportunity for me to finally meet Mr. Perfect?"

"Uh…" I stuttered. "Uh…I _guess_ so…"

"You said you wanted to get used to it first before we met, hmm? And surely you have by now?"

"Well, yeah…it's going perfect at the moment."

"So I presume he'll be coming to pick you up tomorrow evening…you looking all pretty and with your goth looks…how about, uh…just before you go we can have a little chat?"

"Ah…about what?"

"Just for me to get to know him, ask him a few things. Huh, you're not _embarrassed_, are you?"

"No! No, of course not!"

"So how about it? D'ya think now's the time?"

"Yeah…yeah I guess you're right. But trust me, dad, you have nothing to worry about. He's awesome."

"Of course. Arrange it with him, then?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'll do it right now."

"Good girl."

He winked at me before I dashed out of the room.

I was surprised to receive a message from Chase that he was totally cool with meeting my dad before we headed off. I did warn him he could ask the creepiest and strangest things but Chase didn't seem to mind.

Not long before that day, I'd bought myself black leather dress with puffy sleeves and it streamed beautifully out to the sides so it trailed behind me as I walked. I decided to wear that for our date, as well as wear my beloved gothic looks again (despite my hair being dyed blonde). Chelsea had also gave me her high-heeled black shoes, which I had yet to worn, so I decided to wear them, too. I got so excited about it, I had to even draw what I was going to look like, and so by the end of the night my arm ached from shading in my picture.

The next morning, dad came peeping through my bedroom door at around nine in the morning. He had a childish grin on his face when I fluttered my eyes open, tiredly. I smiled back at him, as he animatedly came over to the side of my bed, like he was a little boy at Disneyland.

"Happy birthday, my darling!" he whispered, excitedly to me as he kneeled beside my bed.

"Thank you, dad," I giggled.

"I hate to interrupt a fifteen-year-old girl's beauty sleep, but doncha wanna come and see what your old dad has got ya for your birthday?"

I sat up, sluggishly, rubbing my eyes.

"Yes, please, dad," I replied, beaming at him.

"Come on, then," Dad said, leaping to his feet. "We don't have all _day_! Gotta give ya you're present and then we'll pop up for some fun time, eh?"

I chuckled as I shook my locks into place. "Okay, daddy."

Dad was waiting for me in the sitting room when I entered now wearing my dressing gown and slippers. Dad was stroking a cup of coffee in his hand, which appeared to be the one he'd had the previous night, but I didn't question it. I almost fell over in surprise when I entered the room to see a pile of presents neatly piled on top of each other. They were wrapped in this unusual wrapping paper decorated with playing card designs (I don't know where dad got that from or why he had an obsession with it, but I didn't question it as the paper was beyond awesome). There were about five or six and that may not sound like much but that was a lot for me to have on my birthday, as three presents would be what I received at the most. I was open-mouthed at dad who continued to smirk at me.

"What's all this?!" I exclaimed, as I kneeled down beside the presents.

"They're presents, Shay, what do you think it is?" Dad snickered.

"I know, but…this is a lot, isn't it?"

"Well, you're fifteen now, honey. Becoming a young woman, thought you deserved more, and quite frankly, it's sort of a thank you for cheering me up these past few months as it hasn't been, uh, _great_."

"Aw, dad, thank you so much," I squeaked.

"No need to thank me. Now come on, open 'em. Don't wanna head out late, do we? You have a date tonight."

I glanced eagerly at the badly-wrapped presents before me. I began to pick up the smallest one.

Suddenly, dad cried out, "Wait!"

"What?" I questioned.

"Save that one 'til last," he instructed.

"Why?"

"Because that's the most important one."

"Oh, okay then."

Dad had bought me a gorgeous purple coat which was quite similar to his, except it wasn't loaded with pockets. It was a fur coat (but not _real _fur, dad's not that heartless), with black buttons and large collar that I thought might strangle me. He bought me my usual drawing pad and fine-ink pens and a DVD of _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. Some more clothes followed that, but I got a surprise when a little kiddie plastic tiara, that was obviously from a cosplay costume, fell out along with some jeans. I observed it with a puzzled look, not knowing what to think. It made dad laugh hysterically.

"Dad, how old am I?!" I asked, jokingly, swinging the tiara around in the air.

"Fifteen," he snorted.

"This is for _five_ year olds," I laughed.

"But you like it, don't you? Hmm?"

I sighed. "I…I guess so. It's cute. But why did you get me this?"

"Well, you've always been a little princess," Dad said. "So what's a princess without a tiara?"

"Well if I'm a princess then you're a king," I giggled.

"Hmm…I'd rather be a prince," Dad chuckled.

"But isn't a princess's father a king?" I spluttered into giggles.

"Yes, Shay, but…uh…if I'm royalty of anything then I'm royalty of crime, right?"

"I guess so…and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Of course there isn't. _King_ of Crime just doesn't sound right…_Prince _of Crime does, however..."

I chuckled spiritedly. "Oh, dad what _are _you like, huh? But thank you."

"You're most welcome, princess."

I held it in my hands and poked at the cheap plastic diamonds.

"Reminds me of something, actually," I said, placing it on my head, which it surprisingly fit neatly onto.

"What?" Dad asked.

"Uhh…" I began to stammer as I very nearly told dad about _The Adventures of Jane the Slave_. "Uh...nothing, nothing."

It then got to the last present and just before I could place my hands on it, dad suddenly rose from the sofa, coughing loudly as he kneeled beside me.

"Ah-da-da, wait a minute," he said.

"Dad, what is it?" I said, impatiently.

He tensely place his hand on the present and lifted it slowly.

"Be very careful when opening _this_ one," he explained. "It's very delicate. It's precious."

"I will," I replied.

It didn't really apply because slammed it right into my hand, which startled me. He looked at me, expectantly, and I nervously teared off the wrapping paper.

I gasped in shock. There in my hand lay a simple black handgun, and out of the paper fell a packet of bullets onto the carpet.

For once, I was lost for words. I gripped it in my hand and naturally pointed it in a random direction. I heard dad laugh and I snapped my head in his direction.

"Woah!" I exclaimed.

"Do you like it, baby?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah I love it, dad," I answered, truthfully admiring it in my hand. "But…why…?"

"Well, uh, when we go out you always have to use one of mine, don't you, huh? So, I thought…I'd get you your very own for your birthday, because…well…you…" He coughed. "You know how to use one now. You're not a little girl anymore."

"Hey dad, I still remember the day you explained to me what a gun does."

"Oh yeah." Dad chuckled quietly. "And that was the very first day I knew…I knew you'd be a little fighter. So, what d'ya think?"

"Well, thank you so much, dad," I beamed. "I really do like it. Where'd you get it from, anyway?"

"Hey, hey, _now_…that's for me to know and you to–"

"Be fascinated with?"

Dad pinched my cheek. "Exactly. Just use it your advantage." I jumped when dad suddenly grabbed my arm which had the gun in my hand. He made me put the gun to his head and firmly kept his grip there. I felt my heart start to pound, even though I knew the gun had no bullets in it. "Just watch the faces on the people you do _this _do," Dad continued, his voice sounding the most callous it had ever been. I didn't dare show my nervousness, so I held my breath as dad continued. "If you use a gun in front of a crowd, it makes everything get too much…" A devious smirk appeared on his lips. "You enjoy that, don't you? When everything goes crazy and people are running around like little cowards?"

"When all the attention is on me," I replied, shakily.

"I know you love that. So, I thought I'd give you your own little device that, uh…you can use to show people that you're no sweet and innocent teenager, hmm? Something of your _own_, instead of having to borrow _mine_. You are your own little criminal, aren't ya?"

"I wouldn't say that…"

"Yes. Yes you are." Dad pointed the gun deeper into his head. I didn't notice that I'd started smirking as well. "See? I can see that little smile on ya face. That tells me everything. You happy with your little gift, sweetheart?"

"Yes, dad, I…I guess I won't have to be a pest anymore and borrow yours."

"That's my girl. My little criminal."

"Dad…"

"Shush, shush, shush…it's nothing to _ashamed_ of, is it?"

"Well…"

"No. It's not."

"Dad, why are you pointing the gun to your head?"

He raised his eyebrows, as he glanced upwards, probably to the voices. He paused for a while, probably listening to them. They were obviously saying some pretty crazy things.

"Uhh…because why not?" Dad said. "Now, just a little question for ya, Shaylee. If you had a guy like this…or even a gal…and you had them there because she was threatening to call the cops because you'd done a little something…but all of a sudden she's _begging_….she's _begging _that she won't tell _now _after you've given her a good talking. But your mind's telling you not to trust her, because you _can't_." Dad got more and more worked up, he even started shaking the gun vigorously making my hand shudder along with it, as he emphasised his words. Although I felt the tension, I also couldn't take my eyes off my father. I know I shouldn't have found it mesmerising, but I sort of did. "So what would ya do?" he asked. "What would you do to the person? Are they worth your time?"

"Is _anyone _worth my time?" I scoffed. "I don't _think_ so."

"Good girl. That's correct. So what would you do, princess, hmm?"

I thought about it. I knew what dad _wanted _to hear, but I was smart enough to know what I should _really_ do in that situation. The genuine thing to do would be to let her go. But you know me. Sometimes my heart can't be kind. Plus, I just had to give the answer dad was looking for.

"She'd…she'd have to go," I replied, quietly. For some reason I was still grinning. "I'd have to kill her. Right?"

"_Now _we're talkin'."

"Really?"

"We've had _misery _all our lives, haven't we?" I stayed quiet. "Haven't we?"

"Yes, dad."

"Should we be the only ones in Gotham who have _terrible lives _because of the things we have to go through? The things we've experienced…the _horror_ of it…_no_. No, we can't be the only people who deserve it."

"So if we make other people's lives bad…I mean, people who deserve it and people we don't like the look of…if we make their lives a misery…that will make us feel better? Is that what you're saying?"

Finally, dad lowered my hand holding the gun, removing it from his head and made me put it down.

"You're exactly correct," he said.

"But not _all _people surely, dad?"

"Of course not. But I tell ya, Shaylee, one day, you'll see how hypocritical the people in Gotham are. How one day, everything I do…that _we _do…showing people their true colours and…showing people how pathetic they really are…one day it'll all show. _And _pay off. It'll pay off real good. And it's fun, right?"

"Yeah!"

"You _are _a little rebel, aren't ya?" We both sniggered as dad ruffled my hair. "Now, birthday girl, shall we get a move on as you need to be back to prepare yourself for this, uh…this wonderful date with Mr. Heartthrob?"

"Yeah, let's…let's go!" I exclaimed. "Can I use my new gun as well?"

"Of course you may. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"Okay then."

"Oh. And you might wanna start using it for _real_ now."

"Dad, I…"

"Shh-hh. Come _on_."

Dad made his way out of the room while I sat there clutching my gun. I stroked it, delicately and admired how new it looked. I placed it carefully on the side, next to the picture of my grandmother before starting to get myself ready.

I wore my new purple coat that dad had bought me, along with my tight black jeans and my hoop earring I'd stolen two years before that. As I was tying my hair in pigtails, dad came and joined me wearing his own purple coat. He was already gripping onto a gun, and his hair was placed neatly over his ears. I wore Chelsea's high heels and wore heavy gothic makeup, grooming myself for a while in the mirror, before dad was literally dragging me out the flat and down to the bus station to start our little 'bonding time' down in the City.

Although I took my new gun with me, I didn't use it. I had it hidden behind my back while I waited for dad outside the bank but I never actually used it on anyone that day and of course I didn't fire it. Dad stole over $400 that day, despite him constantly insisting he wasn't interested in money, and let me have $300 of it as an extra birthday gift. We ventured to the little park and dad dared me to push this little boy off the swings and steal it from him. Luckily, his parents weren't there so I did exactly that. To be fair to the kid, he did try and take me on and fight me but the poor little mite had no chance. Dad and I found the whole thing highly amusing, with dad later saying that that kid was going to grow up to be 'the big man'. He was like the mini version of Darren Lyons.

We arrived home around 4pm, and I immediately went to sleep before meeting up with Chase that evening. Just before I dozed off, however, I checked my phone and had about five messages saying 'Happy Birthday, Shaylee!' Chase's said: _'Happy birthday baby, hope everything is okay and you've received everything you've wanted. Can't wait to see you tonight and to meet your dad. Is that still all okay btw? I'm quite nervous about tbh, as I know you've said he's a bit crazy, but I'm sure he'll be cool. Probably where you get it from, eh? ;). I love you loads, beautiful, see you later.'_

At least then I could go to sleep peacefully. He was such a gentleman. I was incredibly lucky to have a boy who just appreciated me instead of staying well away from me because of my annoying disorders. I still wasn't going to tell Chase about dad's criminal ways, but I did reply to him saying it was all going to be fine. Because…it was, wasn't it? I mean, dad wasn't going to lash out at him if he made a slight joke, was he? He wouldn't do that to me.

I did get a little nervous about it, though, because dad doesn't care about anyone. Apart from me…but surely, if he cared about me he wouldn't be an asshole to my boyfriend, would he?

Chase was due to come round at six, have a chat with dad and then we'd leave to get the bus at 6:45 to get to our booked table for 7pm.

I was pacing up and down the sitting room, already wearing my dress that I'd bought for the date. Despite my high heels, it was hard not to tread on my dress as I walked. I was biting my nails which I had painted black, and my hair, which had grown quite long now, was flopped over my shoulders but still flowing behind my back. I had made my hair wavy for the date, which mom had taught me to do as a little girl. Back in the days when she was sober.

The flat was freezing, so I rubbed my arms as I glanced eagerly at the clock. 6:05pm it read.

"Shaylee!" Dad called from the kitchen, making me jump.

"Yeah?" I called back.

"When is Prince Charming coming, then? I thought princes were always on time to visit their princesses!"

"Dad, it's…it's only five past, he'll be here real soon!"

"I should hope so, because I don't want him standing you up! Then I'll know what he's like before I even meet him!"

"Trust me, okay, dad? He'll be here any minute." I was right. About a minute later, the door knocked loudly. "He's _here_!" I cried, excitedly dashing to the front door.

I nearly tripped over my dress when I reached it, but I managed to stand upright by the time I swung the door open. There stood my boyfriend, dressed in a gorgeous suit and bowtie, with his hair combed neatly in front of his face with his floppy black and red-tinted fringe over his eye. Despite that, he still had his school rucksack on his back. Boys will be boys.

We both gasped in unison at the sight of each other. I couldn't believe how smart he looked, as I'd never seen him dressed smartly before.

"Oh Shaylee, you look beautiful," he gasped.

"You look…you look _gorgeous_," I cried, putting my hand to my mouth.

"My mom bought it for me," Chase said. "She told me if I'm going to somewhere as posh as Johnny's, then I have to get dressed up."

"Oh right," I giggled. "Come in, come in."

Chase came into the flat and respectfully wiped his feet on the carpet as I shut the door behind him.

"Do I need to take my shoes off?" he asked.

"Oh no, no," I said. "That's okay."

Chase smiled as he leaned in closer to me.

"Happy birthday, baby," he said, sweetly.

"Thank you," I blushed.

We giggled and shared a light kiss before I clung onto him in a tight hug. He held me close while he looked around our little one-floor isolated flat.

"Cute little flat you've got here, honey," Chase said.

"Yeah," I sighed. "It's not much, but it's home. It's fine for me and dad."

"As long as you're comfortable, that's the main thing."

I heard dad cough sharply from the kitchen.

"Shaylee? Is Chase here, darling?" he called.

"Yes, dad," I answered. I came out of the hug and took Chase's hand. "This way." I exhaled slowly before I lead him into the kitchen, where dad was waiting patiently at the table, a mug of coffee in his hand. I hoped and prayed Chase wouldn't notice a knife lying about, but to my surprise I couldn't spot any. Dad had obviously put them away for safety. He's not dumb, he wouldn't want to give Chase the wrong impression, would he?

Dad looked up when we entered the kitchen and smiled pleasantly.

"Dad, this is Chase," I introduced.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Napier," Chase said, graciously.

He held out his hand to dad for a handshake and dad stood slowly to his feet, observing Chase from head to toe. He sauntered over to us both, looking carefully at Chase. I held my breath to see dad's first impression of him, but thankfully dad smiled at him and shook his hand in return.

"My pleasure, young man," Dad said. "Please, take a seat."

Dad pulled out the chair for him and Chase let go of my hand to sit down. Dad walked over to the cupboards.

"Dad, where am I supposed to sit?" I asked.

"Ahh, you can just stand up, can't you, sweetie?" Dad replied. Chase cracked up laughing.

"Oh, alright then," I said, laughing myself.

"D'ya wanna drink, Chase?" Dad asked.

"Oh no, I'm fine thanks, Mr. Napier," Chase answered.

"Nothing?" Dad turned around. "Not even a coffee?"

"I'm fine, honestly. We'll have a drink while we're out."

Dad nodded and took a seat, so he was facing him. He leaned in on the table, fidgeting in his chair to make himself comfortable. It was almost like he was preparing for a serious interrogation, but then again dad _was _about to bombard him with questions.

"Firstly, you can call me J," Dad said. "I insist."

"J?" I chuckled. "Dad, why can't he just call you Jack, which is in fact your name?"

"Ah, he can call me that if he wants," Dad replied. "But I prefer J."

"Since when?" I asked, puzzled.

"Since quite recently, honey. And you were right, Shay, he is a _smashing _lookin' guy isn't he?"

"I'm…I'm not really," Chase mumbled, but laughed nevertheless.

"Ah, you are. Now then. Chase."

"Yes?" Chase said, still managing to smile at dad.

"You've become quite a frequent name in this flat."

Chase's eyes widened. "Have I?"

"Oh yes. My Shaylee, she just won't ever shut up about you."

Chase looked at me questionably. I had my hand leaning on my face, trying to hide myself.

"What sort of things does she say?" Chase asked.

"Oh, it's all…it's all good things, young man. She tells me you're a respectable young fellow, am I correct?"

"I'd like to think so."

Dad nodded, beginning to smirk. "Look pal, I don't _mind _you being disrespectful to anyone else, as long as you are to my daughter. Okay?"

"Of course, of course, I…I adore your daughter."

"Hmm. With all your heart?"

"With everything I have."

I couldn't help but grin. Chase sounded quite passionate when he spoke about me, which I think surprised dad. He raised his eyebrows at Chase, before squinting his eyes and looking closely at him. He began to nod his head.

"Quite a charmer, you are, aren't ya?" Dad chuckled.

"Well, I…I don't know," Chase said.

"Let me tell ya something, you have to be a very special charmer to win the heart of my Shaylee."

I shot my head up at dad as I had been smiling at the floor.

"What's that supposed to mean, dad?" I asked, smirking at him.

"You know what I mean, honey," Dad winked at me. "You're very fussy, aren't you? Quite conscious. Takes a lot of impressing."

"I don't know _what _you mean," I laughed.

"And she's very lucky, I say," Dad said to Chase. "Tell me…a little bit about yourself."

"Uhh…well…" Chase stammered. "Well, uh…what sort of things do you want to know?"

"Anything you want. As long as I know you're, uh…a _decent_ young boy."

"Well, uh…I live with my mom who's a hairdresser and I look after her a lot…"

"Ah yes, Shaylee's personal hair stylist," Dad interrupted. "Is _she _fond of my daughter, huh?"

"Oh yes, yes she is. She's always said to me since I was about thirteen that I should date her. We live quite happily…you know…I'm still at school at the moment…"

"You're final year, isn't it?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, I move onto senior year next year."

"Does school bother you?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"You hate it?"

"Oh, yeah. The reputation is apparently good but it's really not. Everyone hates it, really."

"Hmm. Good lad, good lad. What would you do if the school was, uh…_burnt down_?"

"Probably have a party," Chase laughed. Dad suddenly laughed hysterically along with him.

I knew Chase thought dad was kidding, but I knew he wasn't.

"Well, Shaylee _nearly_ made that happen, didn't she?" Dad chuckled.

Chase was lost for words then.

"Oh dad, if only the fire _did _grow bigger," I sighed.

"You don't mind the fact she did that, do you?" Dad asked Chase, suddenly having a serious edge to his voice.

"Not at all, J," Chase answered, almost enthusiastically. "I didn't blame her, to be honest, Kayley Lyons pushed her to it and she's a horrible girl so…"

"You're aware of her little problems, am I correct?"

"Dad…" I hissed under my breath.

"What problems?" Chase asked.

"The anger problems."

"She's told me about them, yeah, but that doesn't bother me at all."

"It doesn't, huh?"

"No."

"So…whatcha like most about my Shaylee, then, Chase?"

I could see Chase blush and he glanced down at the table in front of him. "Everything. She's beautiful, she's funny, she's honest and…" He smiled up at me. "She's so brave, too."

"Would you say…she's a girl who can hold her own?"

"Definitely."

"She gets that from me, y'know."

"Yeah," Chase chuckled. "She's told me that before as well."

"Oh and she _knows_ she takes a lot after me." Dad smiled at me before turning back to Chase and staring him down with observant eyes. "Tell me, Chase. Are you prepared to look after her like a true man?"

"Absolutely."

"Hmm. And, uh…_fight _for her?"

"Yes."

"I mean, literally…_fight_."

"That's happened before now, Jack."

"Oh yes, I remember. Had a little fight with that bastard who tried to kiss her, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Did you win?"

"Oh of course I did, he's a little pussy anyway."

"Have you won a lot of fights, Chase?"

"A fair few. I only fight when I'm pushed to it, really. If I get _really _worked up."

"Bit like Shaylee, then, huh?" We all shared a giggle. "Seems like you're the sort of guy who takes no nonsense."

"I would say that."

"I like that. I don't want a weakling dating my daughter. Shaylee's a tough little mite, aren't ya, sweetheart?"

"If you say so, dad," I giggled.

"I _know _so," Dad said.

"I agree," Chase cut in. "Takes no nonsense from anyone."

"So, Chase, what you planning to do, y'know, in the future?" Dad asked.

"Well, I'm hoping to get a grade in art so I can study it in senior year…" Chase began.

"Ah yes, you and Shay with your artistic brilliance," Dad said. "In fact, isn't that how you became friends in the first place?"

"Yeah, it _is_ actually. Strange."

"But anyway, you were saying…"

"Yeah, so I'm hoping to get that and if I get it my mom said I can move out of my home and get my own place."

"You never told me about this," I said.

"Me and mom were discussing it before I came here, actually," Chase explained. "She said I can move out and maybe live with my older cousin, Bradley, if I can't afford my _own_ flat, when I move onto senior year and hopefully when I graduate at eighteen I'll have saved up to get my own place so I can move onto university to study art."

"Have I met Bradley before?" I asked.

"You probably saw him at my birthday party."

"Quite an intelligent young man, huh?"

"No I'm not really that clever, Mr. Napier, I'm just clever at art really…"

"No, I like that." Dad paused as he moved around a bit again. It was all going too well so far. Dad seemed to really like him and Chase seemed to take to dad, as well. Neither of them even mentioned the schizophrenia, which was a huge relief, because if we talked about it would surely make things a little awkward. "I must ask you to do one…small…thing," Dad said, pointing his finger up to the ceiling.

"Yes, anything," Chase answered.

"I wasn't sure what I was going to think of you, but I'm pleasantly surprised at your honesty and how genuine you are."

"Thank you…"

"Hang on, hang on, let me…finish…right, so…Shaylee has insisted to me that you're not a coward and not a little boy but you're actually a young _man _who can defend himself and her. I wouldn't be surprised if you would go to, uh…_extreme _lengths to protect her. Listen, that's _all _I'm asking you to do. Look after her, love her, and protect her and all that lovey stuff…but here's something else: keep her strong. Don't let _her _be weak either, because I didn't raise my daughter to be weak. Of course, if something crazy happens and she gets upset because of her, uh…problems, uh…then that's _okay_, you'll help her through that, won't you?"

"Of course I will."

"Good. Don't think she won't tell me anything foolish that you do, because she _will _inform me. Won't ya, honey?"

"Yes, dad," I said, obediently.

"You're a good lad. I think I can trust you with her. But I'm not saying be an all-round goodie-two-shoes. Some advice? Man to man? Studying and having these ambitions for art is all great, but…don't let it corrupt you. Distract you from Shaylee. Because as you know, I won't be around forever." My heart pounded. "So I need to know there's a good, strong man out there protecting my little girl. Like the son I never had…in a way. Always make sure you're there and when she's in need, you help her. I can't _stand _seeing her upset, but so would any father to a daughter, wouldn't they? If I hear anything about you _breaking _her, though, physically, but more importantly..._emotionally_…anything about you breaking her heart or just simply being a bastard…then I will kill you. And I don't mean that as a joke. I will. I'm not letting anyone break my Shaylee's heart. We all good?"

Chase gulped and nervously rubbed his hands together. "Y-Yes, of course," he spluttered. He then reached for my outstretched hand. "I won't let her down, let _you _down. I-I promise you. I love her too much, I-I could never hurt her…"

"You know how many young men say that and then break their promise because their minds guides them towards dangerous things?" Dad said, with a little smirk pursed on his lips. "You see, young boys like yourself…they can get a _little _distracted sometimes…"

"Oh I won't be…I…I promise you, Mr. Napier."

"J," Dad corrected.

"Sorry…J."

"Oh and uh…on a lighter note, if you two are gonna lose ya V's, you better do it safely."

Chase and I both burst into giggles.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Chase insisted.

"I wouldn't let him go near me without a condom on, dad," I said.

"Good. Good. But just to be safe, we better put you on birth control, huh, pumpkin?"

"I-I guess so…"

"Hey, it's a challenge enough to look after you, I don't want another one prancing around this flat…"

"Dad!" I laughed.

"Alright, I'll be quiet about it now," Dad sniggered. He looked up at the kitchen clock. "Goodness that went quickly. You better get a move on, huh, you two?"

Chase glanced at his watch and quickly stood to his feet.

"Yeah, we need to go, Shay, if we get our table for seven," he said.

Dad stood up and approached us both, hand in hand. He put his own hand forward to Chase, nodding at him to shake it. Chase confidently shook it.

"Nice to meet you, young man," Dad said, still shaking his hand.

"You too, Jack," Chase smiled.

"Now. You two have a good night. Look after my little girl now, won't you? Busy streets at night, these are, _I _should know."

"Why?" Chase asked.

I instantly got off the subject. "Uh, okay, daddy, I'll see you later."

"Come 'ere, you." Dad beckoned me into a hug, which I did and he lightly kissed my head. "What you planning to do afterwards, hmm?"

"We were gonna go back to Chase's," I replied.

"Let's come back here, Shaylee," Chase said.

I came out of dad's hug and stared at Chase. "Well, uh…okay then, if it's okay with you of course, dad?"

"Why not?" Dad said. "I won't bother you. But you'll have to go in your room, Shay." He gave us both a cheeky wink.

"Okay then, we'll do that," Chase beamed.

We took each other's hands again and I lead Chase out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

"Bye, daddy!" I called.

"Goodbye, my love!" he called back.

"Thank you!" Chase shouted.

"A pleasure, Chase. See you later, you _crazy _love birds!"

We did manage to get to Johnny's Italian restaurant on time for seven despite us rushing to get there. Chase had several cigarettes even on the way there, which concerned me a little, as I only had the one.

Words can't describe how beautiful the date was. The staff were amazing as was the service, and the restaurant itself was gorgeously decorated in lights, almost like it was Christmas. It was like entering a palace when Chase and I entered hand in hand. To make things fair, we shared a huge pepperoni pizza between us, which Chase knew was my favourite of all time. I don't think my smile faded once the entire time, I was still smiling when I went to the bathroom or we took a cigarette break outside. The pizza was like magic, perfectly cooked, as was the delicious sticky chocolate fudge cake which we had each as well. Chase never let go of my hand the whole night, and once again made me feel like I was the only girl on earth, whom he complimented repeatedly and talked about the weirdest things to.

I asked Chase about his cousin Bradley, and he explained that he was nearly nineteen and already had a job as a mechanic. Bradley had told Chase that if he wanted to move in with him he was welcome to, as he already had his own house. Chase's aunt (his mom's sister) and uncle were quite well-off and lived in the City, working as a secretary and a receptionist. No wonder Chase lived in possibly the nicest house in Gotham Town. Chase said he was considering living with him after he finished school that year, to "give his mom some space" and live with Bradley (whom he was quite close to despite being "chalk and cheese") throughout his senior years.

Just before Chase paid the bill, he revealed a little red box from his pocket, neatly tied with a little purple bow.

"I, uh…I thought I'd get you a little something," he said, shyly, handing me the box.

"Oh, baby…" I gasped. "Aw, you shouldn't have…"

"Now, now, don't start all that, come on, let me see your face when you open it."

I hurriedly untied the ribbon and opened the box, which revealed a sparkling necklace, which on the end hung a diamond-infested skull shape. The black rings for the eyes were outlined with even larger diamonds, and next to the necklace there were a pair of matching earrings.

I almost teared up at the sight of them. I put my hand to my chest and smiled gratefully at Chase, who was smiling as wide as I was.

"Do you like them, Shay?" he asked.

I sniffed. "They're beautiful," I squeaked.

"Aw, I _knew _you'd love them. What with you loving your skulls and bats and all that. I just _had _to get you them for your birthday."

I leaned over the table and we shared a little kiss.

"Thank you so much, honey," I said. "I love them! I mean, they're so awesome."

Chase then noticed the ring that was already on my finger, and gently took hold of my hand.

"What's this, Shay?" he asked.

"Oh this ring? Oh, this was my grandma's wedding ring. My dad's mom. He said that when she died that the rightful owner of this ring would be dad's daughter. And that's me."

"Oh, I see. It's very beautiful. It suits you."

"And if I ever had a daughter, I'd give to her, and so on."

Once the pill was paid, I headed into the bathroom and immediately put on my new accessories, putting the ones I already had on in my bag. As we stepped outside the restaurant to leave, Chase insisted we get a photo right there for memories, and we took one on his phone. As always, he looked ever dapper, but I looked a gothic mess. Of course, I didn't complain as Chase would start one of those cutie arguments that I couldn't be doing with, so I agreed for him to send it to me later.

We got the bus back home, and I immediately dragged Chase into my bedroom, shutting the door neatly behind me. I also rushed him to make sure in case he didn't see any of dad's weaponry carelessly left out around the flat. I knew there wasn't any of that in my room, anyway.

"Shaylee, what are you doing?" Chase chuckled as I pushed him into my bedroom.

"Remember what my dad said? We have to stay in here," I whispered. "And keep your voice down."

"Alright," Chase said, lowering his voice. "Aren't you gonna say hello to him or anything?"

"Ah, it'll be okay." I began to take off my shoes. "He'll have heard us come in. Trust me, sometimes it's best just to leave him be. If something gets too much, he can go a bit crazy." I threw my bag to one side before Chase hugged me around the back, kissing my cheek repeatedly. I squirmed happily in his arms. "Chase!" I giggled.

"What?" he laughed. "Aren't I allowed to give you a kiss?"

I turned around and he pulled me into a romantic embrace, making my body flutter with joy.

"Of course, but at least let me give you a proper one," I said, trying to sound seductive.

Chase chuckled, but I wasn't sure if he was laughing at my attempt or if it was just to be cute. Nevertheless, our lips touched and locked with each other. I felt Chase smile as we kissed for a good few minutes. When we finally came out of it, our heads leaned against each other and I stroked his bowtie, as he kissed my head, lightly.

"You had a good birthday, then?" Chase asked, quietly.

"It's been the best birthday ever," I breathed.

"Sounds like it," Chase said.

"Chase?"

"Yes, baby?"

"What did you think of my dad?"

I held my breath.

"He's…he seems like a good man," Chase stated, nodding his head.

I smirked, letting out a little laugh.

"You _really_ think so? Really?"

"Hey, I can see how much he cares about you, which is great to see. He seemed very conscious of me, though."

"I told you he would be."

"I know, but that's understandable. He's only looking out for you, and every word I said to him was true, you know. I will look after you, he had nothing to worry about."

"You're lucky he likes you, Chase. You have to be someone pretty special for my dad to like you."

"Why _is _that?"

"I don't know, ever since mom died, you know…he seems to not like _anyone_. Apart from me." I lowered my voice and rested my head on Chase's chest. "To be honest, Chase, I…I think he's depressed."

"What's up with him?"

"Well…he seems a bit off with me sometimes. Some days he comes home and complains all the time. The, uh…you know…that _stupid _thing we both have in our minds, you know the thing I mean?"

"Schizophrenia?"

"Yeah, _that_…that doesn't help at all either."

"Oh my god, has he been to see a doctor at all?"

"He won't see one. Neither of us will."

"What? Why not?" Chase lifted my head up. "You can't be serious?"

"No, he won't."

"_Why_?"

"It…it's complicated, baby…I'd rather not go into details, it'll…it'll just upset me. I wouldn't try to convince him either because he may get angry with you. In fact don't even _mention _it. All he expects you to do is to look after and protect me, that's all he cares about. He wouldn't care if you straight up murdered someone tomorrow…he wouldn't care."

"You know I wouldn't do that, anyway."

"Who says you wouldn't?" I laughed. "You can be a little bit of a badass sometimes can't you?"

"I _am _a badass, Shay, and you know it."

I swooped my arms around his neck and a playful grin appeared on my lips.

"Alright then, Mr Delancey," I said in a silly posh voice. "Show me how _really _bad you are then. Take me…for you may never see my again in your life…and give everything I want in a _bad man_."

Chase burst out laughing as he pulled me closer until I was up against him. I thought he was going to tell me to cut it out, but to my pleasant surprise he actually joined in.

"Okay, Miss Napier," he said in an over-done low tone of voice, trying to sound like a gangster. It made me cough into giggles, as it didn't sound sexy in the slightest. "Come 'ere, then, and let me take you places you've never been before!"

Despite the giggles being uncontrollable, I continued.

"Oh, Delancey, please do, I'll do anything you'll ask!"

"Then you'll kiss me you fucking alien."

I laughed until my stomach burst, only to leap onto Chase so he was holding me above him. We made out for ages, until he spun me around in the air and flopped me onto my bed. My lipstick was smudged all over my face when he came off me, and chucked his shoes to the side. Like a starving wolf, he instantly came back on top of me again, kissing me hard until I could barely breathe. But I didn't mind. I was loving it. Oh how I loved this.

It was only when I opened my eyes after a long kiss did I realise he'd also thrown his coat off to the side and was only wearing his shirt and bowtie along with his jeans. I don't know what came over us both, we both became like pouncing lions. Without saying a word to each other, Chase undid he shirt and ripped off his bowtie and threw them away. It became out of control. I had a feeling rushing through me that I'd never felt before. This wasn't the butterflies, this was something different. But not _bad _different. It was amazing.

I sat up, and flipped my hair backwards. Chase, who was now topless, was now sat facing me. He looked right into my eyes, before he began stroking my face again. I bit my bottom lip and we kissed hard again. I suddenly had the urge to unzip the back of my dress, which I struggled to do, but Chase soon helped me, letting it slowly fall down. Until I was topless myself, I gripped the dress and held it close to my chest, as I realised I had no bra on.

"What's the matter?" Chase asked, touching my face again. He almost sounded out of breath.

"Chase, I…I have no bra on…" I whispered.

"Hey, it's fine, I don't either."

He winked at me as I laughed. Chase smiled at me as he touched the left sleeve of my dress and tried to lower it down. I quickly grabbed it again.

"No…no, no…" I whispered, harshly.

"Shaylee, what's up?" he asked, nudging a little closer.

"I…I hate my body, Chase…I still look like a twelve year old…"

"Don't be silly, it's only me, isn't it?" We looked at each other for a few moments. That feeling still hadn't died down. "You trust me, don't you?" Chase questioned.

"O-Of course I do…" I shakily replied.

"Trust me, okay?"

I gingerly allowed the dress to fall from my chest, revealing my less-than-impressive breasts. I glanced down in embarrassment, but nevertheless quickly stood up from the bed and let my dress fall to my feet, where I kicked it away. I was now just wearing my panties, and I consciously placed my hands over my breasts.

"Chase, I look, I look awful right now," I moaned.

"Load of nonsense, that is," Chase said, winking at me. "You're beautiful." He outstretched his hand which I slowly took and sat on the bed again. He leaned in, not taking his eyes off of mine as I lay down on my bed and he was above me. "You're so beautiful," he whispered again, kissing me lightly on my cheek.

"Chase, stop it," I giggled.

"No you are, you're so gorgeous," he said, seriously. "I'm so lucky right now."

I covered myself under the bedsheets, which Chase didn't seem to mind. We kissed some more until it got so passionate all of my makeup became smeared onto his face, which made us both crack up as he wiped it away.

I didn't really care what happened there and then, as I felt so happy. It set my mind racing, but not in the way it usually did, it spun it out of control with emotions that were unfamiliar to me.

We came out of the kiss and I looked down to see Chase was undoing his belt. That's when I tensely placed my hand on his hard chest to stop him.

"Chase, wait," I whispered.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asked, caressing my cheek with his other hand.

"Are you…you're not gonna…you know…"

"What?"

"You're not thinking about…you know…"

"What, Shay?"

"Chase…we can't…"

"Shaylee, if…if you don't want to, then that's okay, I…I won't force you to do anything…"

"Oh no, don't be stupid. I feel like I could eat you alive right now." We both chuckled quietly. "But, we…we can't…"

"Why not? Didn't your dad say he was fine with it?"

"He said about protection…we don't have…"

Chase laughed, making me jump slightly. "Oh baby, you didn't think I came prepared?"

My eyes widened. "What? What do you mean?"

He leaned in closer, smirking wide. "I have some in my bag."

"_What_?"

"Yeah!"

"Chase, you little bastard!" I laughed. "Why?"

"Well, I knew we were coming back to _someone's _house after the meal and I thought it might happen so I bought some yesterday…"

"Oh my god…"

"Shaylee, you're not mad, are you?"

"No! No…I'm not…" I sighed, as looked at him, lovingly. "God I love you."

"I love you too!" Chase laughed.

After we made out again for a few moments, you know, as you do, dad suddenly came peeping through the door, alarming us both. Thank goodness Chase had kept his trousers on at that moment.

"Dad!" I yelled, when I saw his face appear at my door. I covered myself again, quickly. "What you doing?" Like little boys, both dad and Chase started sniggering. "Chase!"

"Looks like you're getting lucky, eh, Chase?" Dad cried.

"Dad!" I cried.

"Yes, sir," Chase laughed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your little party, sweetheart," Dad said to me. "But you're extremely loud." Chase started sniggering again, and I hid myself under the covers in humiliation. "So…" Dad continued, making us both listen, "so I'm going to put my earplugs in and turn up the TV real loud. So let yourselves go. Don't worry about a thing." I made a sarcastic expression at Chase. "Chase, my good lad…" Dad said.

"Yes, Jack?"

"I will have to stop this party if you do not have a condom…"

"He does, dad," I said. "In his bag."

"You promise me?"

"Yes! Yes, I swear!" I cried.

"Yes, I do," Chase insisted.

"Alright. Alright, I'll believe ya. Enjoy yourselves, you crazy lovebirds. Night, pumpkin."

Dad winked at me before closing the door behind him. Chase and I both erupted into laughter when we met eye to eye again.

Do I really need to go into details about what happened next? I think you can guess. The rush took over.

But just before anything too crazy happened, Chase whispered to me, "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"Y-Yes…I'm fine…"

"I won't do it if you…"

"No, no…Chase, it's okay…." Chase raised an eyebrow up to his sweat-ridden head. Yeah, that shows how much he got into it, huh? "I'm just curious…" I admitted.

"Yes?"

"This…it won't…mess with my head, will it? It won't send my mind racing, do you think?"

Chase bit his lip, looking almost guilty.

"Well…how do you feel now?" he breathed.

"I feel fine."

"You don't feel anything?"

"N-No…not in my mind, it…it feels fine."

"Then it's okay, right?"

"But it might start if you…"

"Shaylee…darling…look at me…it's all gonna be fine, okay? Trust me."

I nodded.

"I love you," I whispered, as he kissed my head.

"I love you so much," Chase said before planting a kiss on my lips. "Now, come 'ere, Miss Napier…"

And…there you have it. I'm not going to explain what happens because you _know _what happens, right? But yeah, that's the night I lost my virginity.

Now I'm not going to describe how it felt because I don't need to. If you've done it, you'll remember your first time, right? You'll know how it feels, especially if it's with someone you love. A first love. It hurts a bit at first, but then you just get lost in the moment. That feeling that you're in the most precious moment of your life and never want it to fade.

It was all very quiet after it happened. Chase was sweating like a pig, but he looked extremely hot nevertheless. I still had my makeup on, but it ruined the waves in my hair. Chase cuddled me for a long time afterwards, and helped me change into my pyjamas. He stuffed his coat and tie into his bag but kept his shirt and trousers on.

Once we'd both settled down and Chase was ready to leave, he quickly pulled me into a hug. We couldn't keep our eyes off each other's.

"How you feeling?" he asked me, gently.

"Fucking great," I answered.

"Me too," Chase laughed.

"You know, baby, you should keep your chest out more often," I said, starting to unbutton his shirt.

Chase quickly grabbed my hand to stop me.

"Woah, woah, hang on, Shay," he chuckled. "Don't be starting that again, it…it was amazing but I'm tired as fuck now."

"I know," I laughed. "But I mean, just show your chest a little more." Chase allowed me to undo the first three buttons. "It's nice. You say I'm body-conscious?"

"Shaylee, it's freezing outside, I can't…"

I put my finger to his mouth, making him quiet immediately.

"You'd do it for me, right?" I asked, sweetly.

I removed my hand as Chase raised his eyebrows at me.

"Okay," he said. "If I promise to be more self-confident with myself, then you can, too."

"But Chase, that's different."

"How is it different, honey? You'd at least try for me, wouldn't you? You're a beautiful girl, and guess what? You're mine."

"Exactly, so I don't need to show off to anyone else, do I?"

"All I'm saying is, I know you're conscious, but we can both try and be more confident, for each other? Hmm?"

I smiled at him. "I guess you're right."

I didn't realise it was as late as it was until Chase said his goodbyes at ten minutes later. It was about 10:30pm when he left. He and dad had a little handshake again and dad murmured some comments to him before he left but I didn't quite hear. Probably something to do with some comments about protection again. We had a long kiss before he headed out, doing the usual 'I love you' and 'I'll text you tomorrow' conversation.

Before I went to sleep, I attempted to show dad my new accessories that Chase had got me for my birthday, but of course dad quickly moved onto another conversation about what had just occurred, asking an endless amount of questions about it, asking me if I felt like I'd 'achieved' something. I won't lie and say I was embarrassed talking about it with dad, because I wasn't. I did tell him everything, because I trusted him, and the entire time he of course made silly little comments about it. It's was nice to have a good laugh to end what had been a birthday that involved a whirlwind of crazy events. Crazy, but amazing. Dad still wouldn't shut up about the fact I was no longer a virgin when he put me to bed _and _the next morning.

It didn't take long for my friends to find out too, getting a message from Tom and Matty about it the next day, Chase obviously telling them he'd got laid. We all had a day together that weekend, and of course all of the guys were asking Chase about it. Tom even had the cheek to ask if I was good at it, which pissed Chelsea off. I thanked the Lord when Chase didn't answer that question. The only one who seemed quiet about it was Chris, who later told me that stuff like that should be kept strictly private, despite him going on about when he lost _his _virginity to some girl he dated for about three weeks. Yeah, some of my showers have lasted longer than some of the teenage relationships in Gotham (Tom and Chelsea managed to stay together, though, despite Chelsea always being pissed off about something he'd done).

That same weekend, I decided to have clean out of my room while dad was out doing whatever, putting all my presents away as I did. I was sorting out my drawers to fold my new clothes in there, when I suddenly discovered an old, creased up bit of paper crushed at the bottom. I opened it and gasped in happiness when I discovered it was my old drawings of _The Adventures of Jane the Slave_. I glanced at my bed, where my kiddie plastic tiara was laying there to be put away. I looked back at my drawing, then back at the tiara.

I couldn't help myself. As soon as I'd put everything away, I lay on my bed with my feet swinging in the air, and began to design. I drew a completely new Jane Price and Bob Moskins, purposely making them look like me and dad. I remembered what Chase had told me about being more confident with my body, and so I decided to make Jane more rebellious, more independent, and loving the fact she's adored by Moskins because she wears silly little skimpy clothes. I drew her clothes the scantier versions of my own, all purple and black and designing her makeup so she looked like the ultimate goddess of Goth. Of course, I added the tiara on her head, as I still kept the fact that Moskins likes to humiliate her and make her dress up like a five year old. I disowned Moskins's facial hair and drew him more like mix between dad and Chase, having Chase's grassy eyes and dad's droopy brown (natural) hair colour with a tinge of frizz in it.

I spent about three hours captivated on creating new stories for Jane. Now making her more of a fighting spirit rather than a wimpy little girl, I created stories where she started to abuse Moskins back, when he turned into a complete monster. I made it so that Jane chose to start taking drugs herself, rather than Moskins forcing her inject herself with those monstrous things. Of course, the abusive but also rather insane partnership between the two of them made them Jane start to develop the craziness in her mind. That way, she could relate more to the real me.

I drew some of these stories in the style of a comic strip, making their faces look like something in an anime and drawing their speech in bubble writing. I nearly ran of ink in my special pens drawing the colourful stories of Jane the Slave's life. Although, she wasn't really that much of a 'slave' anymore. She was more of a partner in crime, as I drew heaps of pictures of her bearing a gun at nothing in particular, but she was still sort of a little slave to Moskins, as he was a controlling asshole, but he wasn't psychotic. He still had feelings for her, but he found it hard to show them because of turbulent past of violence and abuse, so he really knows nothing more than that.

I sketched and sketched until my hand fell off my wrist. I'd doodled half a story before I finally got up and decided to make myself a drink. Still waiting on dad's return, I also made myself a ready-meal for dinner, and had two cigarettes while I waited for it. I shoved it down my throat as my mind was clogging up with so many new ideas for _The Adventures of Jane the Slave_. It felt like such an accomplishment I had created these stories and finally got back to drawing them again. I thought about the possibility of one day publishing them and making millions. Then me and dad would have all the money in the world and have _no _worries.

That's a big lie of course. We'd _always _have worries, whether we were millionaires or living in major poverty. We had a mental disorder that dad refused to seek help for. It was never going to be an easy life.

Oh how I wish I was ordinary sometimes.

I kept my little comic book creation to myself, and immediately stopped when dad came home that evening. We sat and watched a movie together that night, and the whole time he had a knife on the arm of the chair. A switch-blade knife, that's one I'd never seen before.

Weeks went by, and all seemed to carry on as normal. Dad went out, I went and spent time with Chase as well as helping dad provide for us both through crime and of course when I was alone I carried on making _Jane the Slave_ until it got to the point I was obsessed with it.

It made me completely forget about Harley and the fact I wished she would leave my dad alone and just rot away in an asylum. It made me forget about all my troubles and struggles in the world. I didn't even break down or see red for so many weeks.

But of course, my luck can never last.

It came to the end of May on a Wednesday morning, and dad and I had just woken up from our gory dreams. Like any normal day, we were preparing to go out. I was carefully doing my makeup in front of mom's dressing table mirror, and I had flipped on the news while I was pampering myself. My new gun was lying casually on the dressing table in front of me, prepared for me to carry at any moment. As I finished off doing my eyeliner, dad strolled in, wearing his typical purple coat but with a black shirt underneath and his green-tinted hair effortlessly backcombed over his ears. He was typically clinging onto a knife in his right hand.

"All ready yet, Shay?" he asked, brightly.

"Almost. Just gotta to my hair," I replied.

Dad took as seat on the sofa as he waited for me.

Just as I was about to tie my hair up, something on the news drew my ears' attention. It made dad sit up and take notice too, which was rare. I whirled around to see.

"Gotham Police have confirmed that last night they were finally successful in arresting prisoner Harleen Quinzel, who escaped from Arkham Asylum this January. The middle-aged woman, who was sentenced to nine years imprisonment almost five years ago for the murder of Diana Jenson, was found late hours of last night, robbing expensive equipment from Gotham's Sports Centre in the City, and was later arrested by the cops. However, the other members who were at the scene of crime later escaped and the police are searching for the other unidentified gang members as we speak. When arrested, Quinzel claimed the police wrongly accused her and that Harleen Quinzel was not in fact her name. This, however, was later proved wrong when they checked her previous records, confirming that her identity was in fact Qunizel herself, whom the police have been searching for, for a matter of months. Quinzel stated in her interrogation that she is under a new alias, but refused to confirm it to the police."

"Idiot!" Dad yelled.

"The police have stated they will keep Gotham informed of Quinzel's gang members who were involved the robbery last night, and that all of the equipment can be returned safely."

"I _told _her…I _told _her _not _to go ahead with that!" Dad shouted, suddenly rising to his feet. "I said and I said they'd get caught after we did it first time, that's the _first _place they're going to look! But no, she's so mad that she _went _with it…and now she's been thrown away…"

I was completely amazed about how much dad was worrying.

"Dad!" I cried out.

"What?!" he shouted, startling me a bit.

"Dad, why do you _care _so much?" I asked. When he didn't answer I stormed over to the remote and zapped the television to turn off. I turned back to face down. For some reason, the frustration and anger almost started immediately. Dad frowned at me, but I didn't dare hold back. "Why do you _care _anyway?" I asked again.

"I just…_do_, okay, Shaylee?!" Dad snapped.

"There must a reason! I thought you didn't care about anyone, did you?"

"What's the matter with you, getting all snappy all of a sudden? Just don't talk about it."

I wasn't quite sure why, but all of a sudden I couldn't hold myself back anymore. My mind was already racing slowly, and it was telling me to suddenly lash out my opinions at dad. I _knew _I couldn't stand seeing dad angry or frustrated, I _hated _seeing him stressed, but right then, in the heat of the moment, I didn't care. I didn't want to hold back my views anymore. Maybe it was because I hadn't lashed out in a while, and I needed to let it go in burst of anger.

But this was the perfect opportunity to finally show dad what happens when I go mad, because he really _still _hadn't seen it for real.

"No, let me have my say!" I yelled at dad.

"Shaylee, we will talk no more about this," Dad retorted in his dangerous voice. It didn't scare me this time. "I'm getting her out, I'm calling the boys for help."

Dad started walking towards the door, but stopped in his tracks, backing up against the door and glaring at him with my eyes of gleaming anger.

"Oh no you're not!" I shouted.

"Shay, move out of my way," Dad said, trying to sound calm. I attempted to push me, but I stayed glued to the door. "Shaylee, move _away_! What's the matter with you?!"

"What's matter with _me_? What's the matter with _you_, dad?! Why are you obsessed by the fact you have to keep letting Harleen–"

"Harley!"

"Whatever the _fuck _her name is…why do you want to keep an insane little murderer who's the scum of the earth free?! _Why_, dad?! What makes her so special, huh?"

Dad was suddenly speechless, but that didn't mean he was silent. I could sense the anger inside of him. I glared at him, raising my eyebrows, still waiting for a genuine answer. I looked into his eyes, and I could almost see the red flames in them. My head started to reel louder, but I fought back not to scream or let them corrupt me. Dad should have been proud of me right then. I was not being broken. I was being _strong_.

Suddenly, dad violently grabbed my arm, which this time I couldn't fight back and he threw me to the ground, nearly knocking the small television over. I covered my face, but out of the corner of my eye I could still see dad hovering above me.

I finally managed to look up.

"Why won't you answer me?!" I cried. "You _must _have an answer, dad!"

Dad groaned loudly, sharply leaning down and grabbing my head to look at him. Still, I was not phased.

"Because I promised her that I'd _help _her," Dad hissed.

"Why? Why would you?"

"Let me finish! Because we'd _always _stuck together, and _she _wanted that. You should be _grateful_, she's helped me provide a lot for you over the last few months!"

"Grateful?" I scolded. "_Grateful_?" I couldn't hold myself back anymore. "Grateful for the fact she's taking _advantage _of you!"

"You shut up right now!"

"_No_! Let me speak for a change!"

"Go on then."

"Dad, do you think I'm stupid? You're not helping her because you _want _to…I've worked it _all _out…she's _obsessed _with you! You've always said she's been there to help you with your little crimes _all of your life_, and she's always stuck by you! You wanna know what _I _think? I think she's too deeply in love with you that's she'll always help you no matter what! I think her obsession with you and the fact you were engaged to and had a _child_ with her best friend…it made her depressed and made her crazy. Because let's face it, dad…she escaped out of Arkham and immediately called you and _you _went back to her…and what happened the day you saw her again? I say what I think about her and you nearly hit me and send me into breakdown! You defend her because…I don't know…why do you? Why do you defend the woman who murdered _the mother of your child_?! The _love of your life_?! Mom will be _turning in her grave_!"

"You've suddenly got all defensive about your mother, haven't you, Shay? Huh?"

"Yes, because she was my _mother_! Remember what you said to me? No matter how much shit she put us through, I will still care about her because she was my _mom_! You say _you _cared but if you did you wouldn't keep running back to the woman who _murdered _her, now would you?! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were _sleeping _with her, just to make her stay and help you!"

Dad suddenly pulled me up to my feet where he kept me in his strong grip. I struggled slightly, but there was no way I was backing down now.

"Shaylee, you _dare _you suggest such a thing!" Dad snarled.

"What's the matter, dad? Don't like the fact I'm saying my opinion? Telling you the _truth_?"

"You don't _know _the truth!"

"Maybe…but I _know _she killed my mother…and the fact that _you_…my father, the only family I have left, is what? Visiting her like she's your _friend_? Shouldn't you _hate _her? It's disgusting!"

"Disgusting, is it?"

"Yes! It is! Out of all the people I see you kill every day, I would get the most pleasure if I saw you kill _her_!" Dad suddenly paused as he frown faded. He loosened his grip, making me fall to my knees. I clung onto my head, and dad tried to touch my shoulders again. "No, don't touch me!" I yelled. I tapped my head and harshly whispered to it, "Calm _down_, calm _down_, calm _down_…"

_Didn't you just say wanted her dead? I'm sure your dad wouldn't mind. He wants you to start using your gun, doesn't he? Show him you're not worthless…_

"I'm _not _worthless!"

_Harley deserves it. Isn't it what's right?_

I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I looked up helplessly at dad, who had now began to start pacing up and down the room, mumbling and sighing to himself, probably trying to calm _his _voices.

"Dad?" I said, quietly. I snapped his head to me, with his hands on his head. "Dad, I know you probably hate me right now…but I'm only saying the _truth_." I paused as dad slumped on the sofa. "You _are _having sex with her, aren't you?"

"No," he mumbled.

"Dad…"

"I'm _not_…"

"Then why…dad…I just want to know _why_…" My voice started to tremble horribly. "Why would you disrespect mom like that? The woman you _loved_? You had your daughter with…_me_!" I started to sob, helplessly. "I've been wanting to ask you for _so long_…but I never have because I _knew _you'd do something like _that _to me, like what you just did."

"I don't know, Shaylee," he murmured. "I just don't know."

"What do you _mean _you don't know?!"

"Shaylee, I…"

"Tell me the truth! Can't you tell the truth?!"

"Don't you get like that with me…"

"What do you _expect _me to say?! You've told me all my life to defend myself, be independent and fight for what's right. That's what I'm doing now, isn't it? You even encourage me to _kill _people who aren't worth my time. Well, you know what, dad?" I stood to my feet, and I furiously wiped my tears. Dad curiously looked at me, almost intrigued at my words. I listened closely to the voices swirling in my head. "_Harley _isn't worth my time. You've wanted people out _my _life who are going to weaken me, so I'm going to follow in your footsteps. You want me to get used to my new gun? Let's do it, dad. Yeah. Let's do it." I paused, taking deep breaths. "I want her dead, dad. I want her _dead_. I can't let the woman who killed my mother, for a reason I am _still _unaware of, the woman who is taking advantage of my only family…I can't let her walk the earth. I don't want you hurt. She's insane, but I'm not. I know what I'm doing. She may do the same to you, so why not get rid of her before it happens?" Dad still remained quiet, giving me an expressionless face. "You understand m, dad?" I asked. "I thought you would understand what I'm doing here."

Dad finally rose to his feet and walked up to me, not taking his eyes off me. The angry presence didn't seem to my steaming off him now, which made myself calm, although the monster inside of me was still controlling me. The words I said to dad, that wasn't me. That was the monster. I wasn't sure what it was yet, but it almost became interesting to me.

Dad finally managed to speak. "You wanna put that gun to use, do you?" he questioned, still blank.

"Yes," I answered.

"Is your head okay?"

"Of course it isn't, but why should I complain? I don't want it to take over right now when I'm focusing on something much more important."

Dad's eyebrows lifted in almost astonishment.

"Good girl," he praised. "You know somethin'? I was totally angry at you at first, but now you're starting to make sense…"

"You're only just seeing sense _now_?!"

"Shhh…calm yourself, my love. I don't know what's come over you in the last few minutes, but you know what I see? A determined young woman who's wanting to go to ah…_extreme lengths _to get what she wants. You know myself and Harley have always been very close, and I'm _not _gonna reveal anything because I'm a man of my promises...but who's my main priority, Diana?"

"Diana? I'm _Shaylee_."

"Sorry. Shaylee. God, you're looking _too much _like her…"

"_I'm _your priority, dad, aren't I?"

"Absolutely. And so, why should I have all the fun? I have to give you your fair share. So here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna call some of my friends, and we'll meet them at Arkham to try and get Harley out…"

"_What_?"

"Ah-ah-ah…let me finish…and we'll just see how determined you _really _are. You can join us this time, huh? Personally, I don't think you'll have the _guts _to straight up _shoot _Harley…"

"Oh, dad. Trust me. I will."

"Hmm…but we'll see, won't we?"

"What if I _did _do it, dad? Then what you say? Would you be mad that I shot her or would you be happy?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure how I'll feel. But if you _did _do it, with fire in your heart, I'm sure I would have a sense of pride for you, my little one."

"Dad, I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing this for mom. But I still don't understand how you can't _hate _her with every fibre inside of you…I just don't understand, dad."

"Sometimes, honey…I don't understand myself. Now, baby…get your gun. We have a date at Arkham. Oh and if you're caught holding her at gunpoint, that's not my responsibility. You're the one who wants to kill her. I won't help you. Let's think of this as your test, Shaylee."

Dad started heading towards the door, grabbing his cell phone from the side as he went.

"And what if I fail, dad?" I asked, even though I knew I wasn't going to.

"Then, we'll just have to do you another one, won't we? We'll have to see you get rid of idiots at _some _point. Which I will organise."

"You won't need to, dad, because I'm going to kill her. I will. They're telling me to. _I _want to. I just want to see her die. Just like she saw mom die."

Dad left the room while I stared ahead at the wall, with murder in my mind for the very first time.

I felt like a monster.


	13. Jack Napier Is Dead

_**PLEASE TAKE NOTE: Very important chapter! Contains upsetting themes. A**__** lot a fluffy things coming up but also a lot of important things, too! Yeah, I know it's a bit OOC for Jack Napier but so what? Too corny? Too bad. It makes sense for the situations in this chapter.**_

**_Hope you like._**

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Jack Napier is Dead**

"Do you want me to personally come down there and drag you out of your pit by the collar?!" I heard dad yell on the phone in the hallway. "Yeah? Yeah, I'm aware of that, but there is no _way_ I'm doing this on my own! Why? Why _what_? Because I promised her I wouldn't let her go back in that dump! Ken, I'm going a bit crazy here, of _course_ I'm not alright. No. We made...yes, I _know _that, you shithead, but you are _going_ to help me, whether you like it or not! I'm coming to get you. I'll be at your door in half an hour. Be ready, or be shot. _That's _it. No, no, no…don't give me that. What? I _know _we can get caught but I don't care! I don't give a fuck anymore. Don't you fucking _dare _try and give me that! Oh and…I'll have my daughter with me. Why are you _laughing_? Oh you think that's funny, do you? What? Because she _wants _to come, Ken! Don't question me! No, I don't care. Alright, be ready in half an hour, Kenny boy. Give Larry a call and tell him to move his _ass _outside to the asylum, because _he's_ helping too…and don't you _dare _chicken out of it!"

Dad groaned loudly as he bashed the sitting room door open and buried his phone into his pocket.

I was making the last touch-ups on my makeup. My hair was now tied neatly in swinging pigtails. Dad was impatiently pacing up and down the room and mumbling nonsensical curses to himself, when I finished and turned around. I noticed he was now wearing purple thick leather gloves which I had never seen before, but I didn't question them. They looked kind of cool. I guessed they would be for some sort of protection.

I grabbed my new gun on the dressing table and faced dad with the anger twinkling in my eyes. He was wearing his purple coat again, with normal clothes underneath, and his green hair, which he had recently dyed again, he hadn't bothered to brush.

I waited awhile for dad to make a move, but he paused for a few long moments. He carefully placed his hands to his head and shut his eyes.

"Dad, are you okay?!" I exclaimed, rushing to his side.

"I'm _fine_." He flinched away, almost aggressively. "Just gotta _calm _myself before we make a move." He took several deep breaths as I held my own. "Calm yourself, Jack boy," he muttered to himself. "Come on, J."

Once he finally opened his eyes, he glanced at me, removing his hands from his head. He exhaled deeply one last time.

"Are you okay now?" I asked. "You don't hear anything?"

"No…no, no…it's okay now. _You_ feel anything?"

"I'm perfectly fine, dad," I lied. I could still feel my head reeling ever so slightly, but I didn't want it to distract me from the main goal I had on my mind.

Dad nodded his head towards the door as a sign to make our move. I firmly clutched onto my gun and followed him out of the front door, which he locked behind him. I expected him to carry on walking, but he stood very still outside the door. I looked up at him, expectantly, but he stayed motionless. Even his eyes were scrawled.

"It's _all _getting _serious_, now, huh?" he suddenly said.

"What do you mean?"

"You," he said. "You, getting all murderous and vengeful all of a sudden."

"You said you don't think I'll do it."

"I don't think you will, but…it's just…your _mind_...man...it's obviously getting _slightly _out of hand, isn't it, Shay?"

"No," I insisted. "No it's not. This isn't my mind telling me to do this, dad, _I _want to do this. For mom. I don't care about the consequences."

Dad sighed and kneeled down to my level.

"Okay then, sweetie. Let's make this, ah…a _little_ more fun then, shall we? We always have fun out together. Well, I don't want this to be anything different. Let's just be ourselves, show 'em the ropes, don't worry about Ken and Larry…"

"I can't believe you've asked _Larry_ to help you."

"Why not? He's back in business now, Shaylee. Although I do believe he's a _little_ bit of a coward and professional liar."

"What about Rob? He seems to be someone you hang out with. Why isn't he coming?"

"Uh…Shaylee…he's _dead_."

"What?!"

"Y-Yeah. He died two years ago. Remember, I told you about it? I told you I stabbed him, didn't I? _You _questioned it that night when I was feeling a bit shit because I went through a breakdown which made me stab him."

"That was _Rob_? You said you _didn't _kill him."

"Correction, I _said_…he wouldn't make it to the next day, the damage I did to 'im. And he didn't. Ken flipped about it. But I didn't care, he made me mad. I told you, didn't I?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

"Don't worry about the idiots helping me, anyway, honey. I only need 'em to cover me. They'll act like fools, but don't let them make fun of you or get the better of you or anything like that."

"I would never."

"Good. Let's just think of this as…another day of us providing for ourselves. Except…you have something _more _on your mind…and there's a task to fulfil, with extra people. Right?"

"Yeah!"

"Now come on. We need to meet Ken before we go to the City and do, uh, business. But stay close to me at all times, okay? You can only go off on your own when I say, is that clear? I don't want _anything_ happening to you. I wouldn't dream of anything happening to you."

"Of course. I promise."

Dad smiled at me and softly pinched my face.

"There's my girl. I trust you. Oh...and uh, Shaylee…?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I, uh…how I acted, just then…I, uh…I shouldn't have. My mind, it went…I don't know. I'm sorry, Shay…"

"Dad…it's okay."

I gave him a reassuring touch of the arm. Dad smiled again before standing to his feet and clapping his hands.

"Let's go then, my darling," he said, sounding the most enthusiastic he'd been that morning.

Dad led me to Ken's flat which was luckily only a five minute walk as it was in the next street to ours. When we arrived on his doorstep, dad loudly knocked on his door, and it was almost immediately answered by Ken himself, who was wearing dirty cheap joggers and jacket which was covered in mud. The smell of horrific body odour made me back away from him in disgust as he came out of his flat doorway, but not bothering to lock it behind him.

"Alright, Jack?"

They gave each other a manly, but very awkward handshake.

"Ken, we need to make haste," Dad said. "I knew we'd get there quicker if we borrowed your car."

Ken sighed as he led us to a rusty car parked opposite his flat.

"Get in, then," he told us, unlocking the car door. Before either of us could make a move, he then suddenly glared at me, staring at the gun in my hand. He looked back at dad. "Isn't that mine?" he asked, sharply.

"What?" Dad snapped, impatiently.

"That gun your kid is holding," Ken nodded towards it.

"Hang on a minute…" I began to say.

My words could not continue because I gasped when I saw dad launch at Ken and gruffly pin up the man against his own car, by his collar. I stood back and watched the display in front of me with deep interest. Dad was gripping him tightly with his overpowering strength, but Ken didn't look shaken. He looked like he was used to this happening to him.

"Firstly, pal, she has a _name_," Dad hissed, spit bulleting into Ken's face as he growled. "It's Shaylee. Secondly, who _cares_ if that was your gun at one point? It's _hers _now, and she _loves _it, so don't get pissed off about it. Oh yeah and _don't _act all annoyed at me. You're so ungrateful, aren't you? Huh? I ask you to help me and you act like you don't give a care in the world. You don't get why I need Harleen outta there. Now. Take us to the City and take us to Arkham, you cocky little _shitbag_, before I make my daughter _shoot _you with your own gun!"

Dad then harshly freed him and Ken stumbled over the pavement. He quickly swung open the door and got in the driver's seat, while dad opened the back seat and held it open. He grinned at me, instantly calming himself down.

"Madam." He bowed comically, smiling pleasantly at me.

I laughed and skipped into the car. I budged over and dad sat next to me, slamming the door after him. We were still giggling when Ken began to reverse the car until we were eventually speeding through the streets.

"What you two laughing at, then?" Ken asked, looking at us through the head mirror.

"Oh, my dad just made a joke," I said.

"He's always like that, aren't you, J?"

"Shut up, Ken," Dad said, snidely. "Anyway, Ken, this is Shaylee, my daughter."

"I guessed that, man. Heard a lot about you, kid."

"Have you really? What sort of things?"

"Ah, your dad just says you take after him a lot."

"Oh. Oh and he's _correct_."

Not another word was said for the rest of the journey. We all remained very quiet, but I went deep into thought, thinking about what I was planning to do.

My determination never left me. I was _going_ to avenge mom, no matter what.

You're all probably thinking: Why? Why avenge a mother who was an alcoholic and for the majority of the time she was alive never bothered with me and let my dad do all the raising? Well, to put it simply...I still loved mom, of course not as much as my dad, but I still did. It's something I can't explain. Sometimes I can see a lot of her inside myself, not just because I look like her, but when I argue with dad, it's almost like I become her, making dad naturally hostile because he instantly saw mom. Maybe he really _did _see mom and not me because of his hallucinations. He _did _just call me Diana…it was strange. If I can see myself in mom, even in a negative way, then that makes some sort of connection, doesn't it?

I'm sorry, I can't explain it properly, but maybe I can try my best.

Mom did show me her love, sometimes, but it was clear that she was depressed and paranoid and could not look after me. She wasn't _ready_ to become a mother, she was twenty-one when she had me and dad was twenty-two.

She told me her own parents died in a car crash when she was a teenager, when she first moved to Gotham from Wisconsin. She found the comfort in dad as he'd gone through the same thing (although he wouldn't tell me how his father died) and they rushed the relationship, if I'm honest. To be fair to her, she _knew_ she wasn't ready to have a child and couldn't cope since her and dad were only young, so she wanted to abort me and wait. She also knew it would be twice as difficult because I could have inherited some of dad's disorders, which I did, much to my misfortune.

Life was unfair to her. It was unfair to _me_. It was unfair to _all of us_ as a family.

Although I couldn't help my anger towards her (because of my ADHD), I knew I didn't help her parenting. I made her give up on motherhood. I knew she still cared about me, but she turned to drink because she was depressed. I didn't know that as a child, did I? I just thought she was selfish. She was, in some ways, but as I sat and thought about it, she had to cope with a lot: a violent relationship and a child who had a severe mental disorder.

I wish I could turn back time and say I was sorry to mom.

We eventually arrived in the City, and Ken foolishly parked outside the police station, getting out of the car, along with a handgun which he got from underneath his seat and placing it in his jacket pocket. It didn't seem to worry dad, though. He turned to me, just before I was about to open the door, and coughed to get my attention.

"Now, Shaylee, you remember to stay close to me unless I say otherwise?" Dad said.

"Of course. Dad, how are you going to do this, anyway? How are we even going to get in?"

"For me to know and you to find out. Stay on your toes and search for trouble. You have a gun now, use it wisely."

We got out of the car and met Ken round the other side, who locked it. Dad and Ken escorted me through the busy streets, of course everyone giving us dirty looks. We sauntered through the streets until we finally reached a street surrounded by guards. I briefly saw a large brick building with a thick black gate before I was pulled backwards by dad behind the wall, so we were soon out of sight.

Dad gripped onto my hand, almost making it red, but I didn't care. I gripped onto his tightly, while still holding my gun in the other hand. I was very lucky no one had spotted me with it up to that point, as I had idiotically not brought a bag with me.

"What now, genius?" Ken asked.

"We wait for Larry," Dad answered. "Where the fuck is he, anyway?"

Dad and I both started fidgeting in impatience, like we always do, until eventually Ken coughed to break the silence.

"Do you want me to ring him?" he asked, sounding impatient himself.

"No, I will."

He let go of my hand and dug in his pocket for his phone, which he flipped out and quickly jabbed in a number. He soon put the phone to his ear and started to shuffle around, always glancing around him with a watchful eye.

"Larry, where are ya?" he questioned down the phone. Dad rolled his eyes. "I don't really care, pal. You think this is possible with just me and Ken? Don't give me that. Anyway, I thought you were the one _so keen _to help Harley all the time? What? Get your ass down here, if you're not here in ten then you can _forget _about living…" Ken and I were both staring at dad, but in different ways. Ken was looking at him like he was crazy, I was staring at him in complete awe. "Oh you're on your way? Good! Move it, move it, move it!"

Dad ended the call and with a loud groan put his phone back in his pocket. He pushed his hair back with his gloved hands, crashing his back against the wall. I immediately leaned my head on his arm for comfort, when I saw his eyes closing. He almost looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"Are you okay?" I asked, softly.

"I'm okay, Shaylee," Dad replied, hugging me around the shoulders. We both looked up at Ken, who looked completely dumbfounded. "What you looking at, Ken?"

"Nothing."

"Good." Dad hugged me closer, managing to smile. "Don't worry, Shay, we'll be moving soon."

"We can't wait for Larry _forever_."

"I know, that's why I'm giving him ten minutes. He's a little coward. He doesn't even live _that _far away."

Thank goodness Larry came sprinting down the walkway only two minutes later. He looked exactly the same when I met him five years before, he may have even been wearing the same clothes, which shows how much he cares about himself. His face was red, and his hair sticking to the side of his face.

"Hi, Jack," he panted. "Ken."

He and Ken shared a manly hug but dad eyed him up and down in disgust when Larry tried to give him a handshake. Larry was almost taken aback when he saw me, still clinging onto dad, blinking several times.

"What's the matter, Larry?" Dad asked. "Tired out? Not like you."

I spluttered into giggles, dad sniggering along with me as he patted my head.

"Who…?" Larry stuttered. "Who is this?"

I sighed.

"Don't you remember me?" I asked, pretending to act disheartened. I came out of dad's hug and walked up right to Larry's face. "It's me, Shaylee. Jack's daughter. You met me when I was ten, remember?"

"Oh my god…"

"Oh you _do _remember?"

"Wow, look at you, you look so grown up."

"Well, it _has_ been five years, Larry. I'm fifteen now."

"And she's not a little girl anymore," Dad cut in, walking over and placing his hand on my shoulder. "So don't mess with her, okay, pal?"

"Course I won't," Larry said. "Anyway, it's nice to see you again, Shaylee."

Dad then beckoned us all into a huddle, like we were a gang on kids on the playground just before a soccer match. Of course people were staring at us like crazy, but dad seemed to be oblivious to it all.

"Alright," Dad addressed us all in hushed tones. "Ken, you're coming with me, Larry and you, Shaylee, are staying here for watch out…"

"What? Dad…"

"Shush, shush…let me finish. Now, Ken and I are going to do this by breaking into the asylum the back way."

"There's a back way?" Ken asked.

"Yes, you dumb fuck, there _is _a back way. Through a big emergency door next to the back gate, it leads into the actual asylum itself. Eventually. There's a little alleyway down the side that leads to this door. _I_ should know, I've been here before. I'm not a dumbass, you know."

"Yeah, he's right, Ken," Larry said.

"But Jack, the cameras…and the guards, the cops and all that…" Ken said.

God, was this guy actually a criminal? _I_ had more determination than him.

"Relax, Ken…that's what _guns _are for, isn't it?" Dad mimicked his voice. "Just shoot 'em."

"What?"

"You heard me. We can steal Harley's cell card or keys or whatever at the reception desk, which _you_ will get, Ken, while I search for the bitch herself, and then you'll find your way back to Harley's cell, where I will be waiting for you, and we can get her out of there, but we will come out the way we came." Dad turned his head to face me. "Darling, you and Larry will keep people away, okay? Stand outside this huge entrance gate. And once we're out of the grounds' site, and gone in to get Harley, you can uh…_join us_. Is that clear? Don't let anyone follow us inside or question what we're doing. And _don't_…by any means…let them call the cops. You can shoot if you have to. Even if they're cops. You understand, hmm?"

"Yes, dad."

"Good girl. Now, _you _understand, Larry?"

"Yeah, I guess," Larry said, looking down at the floor. "Although I don't understand how you think we can get away with this. I mean, how we gonna get through the entrance gate?"

"I came prepared." Dad nodded towards Ken, who pulled out some sort of lock-picking device he'd obviously gotten from his van. "See?"

"Jack are you _sure _you want to risk this?" Larry persisted. "I mean...it's not like you _need _Harley or anything..."

"Don't be such a _coward_," Dad snarled. "It'll _all _be fine…"

"It might work with just one of us, but, I mean, with _four _of us and one of us a teenage girl…"

"What does _that _have to do with anything?" I snapped.

"Nothing, I mean…it might not be safe…"

"Oh, Larry, lighten _up_," I groaned. "Why you so serious all the time? Weren't you the one who was, like, an expert at this back when you and dad were young? If dad says it's gonna work, then it's gonna work. When is he _ever _caught?"

"She's got a point, Larry," Ken said.

"I'm not being funny, but I know my dad better than you will _ever _know him."

"You tell 'em, sweetie," Dad laughed. "Now, ladies and gentlemen. I don't want any _messing around_. If it goes wrong, _Shaylee_ is the one who gets away, understand? But…it _won't _go wrong, will it? Trust me, guys. Okay?"

"Sure, Jack."

"Shaylee?"

"Yes, daddy."

We all then stood up but before we made any moves, dad pulled me to one side. With his gloved hands, he caressed my smiling face and pushed some of my loose hair behind my ears. Dad beamed down on me, proudly.

"Remember, Shaylee, this is your test. If you fail, you fail. I won't be mad at you. But I know you'll fight hard, won't you?"

"Dad, I'm not _going _to fail."

"Shh!" Dad quietened me, looking around, anxiously.

"Sorry. No. No, I'm going to do this. I can't let _her_ corrupt you anymore. Today will be the last day you see her, dad, whether you like it or not. You don't care, right?"

"I don't know. I don't, ah...We'll just have to see."

"Still think I'm not gonna do it?"

"Hmm, we'll see, won't we? Now be a good girl and, uh…_misbehave_. Okay?

"Dad, I have ADHD, it's kind of hard _not _to."

We both laughed heartily, before dad kissed my head and nodded at Ken to follow him towards the large, black entrance gate.

"Bye, beautiful!" Dad called to me, waving.

"Bye, daddy!" I giggled, twiddling my fingers in a girl wave.

Dad and Ken left myself and Larry behind the wall, and I peeped my head round to see Ken effortlessly use the lock-picking device to open the gate, while dad defended him by combatting any citizens who tried to confront them. Once the gate was open, dad left a pile of knocked-out bodies behind to follow Ken inside to the grounds, who locked the gate behind him.

With a crowd of nosey inhabitants scrambling over the gate to try and follow them, I watched dad and Ken sprinting towards Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. I gripped onto my gun, ready to make a move at any moment, tiptoeing out from behind the wall. Larry joined me by peering around the wall himself. I made him jump when I burst out laughing at dad punching a security guard until he fell on the floor where dad continued to kick him. Ken fought off other guards, even shooting one of them. More and more scampered over to the gate, mouths agape and their screeches of worry becoming more and more worthy of forming goosebumps on my arms.

I thought everything was going to go brilliantly, that was, until a woman screamed at the chaos before her, behind Larry and I, making Larry yank me backwards behind the wall by my jacket, the action being drawn away from my eyes.

"Hey, don't touch me!" I squirmed out of his grasp, like a petulant child.

"Stand back a minute!" Larry commanded.

"Don't shout at me!"

It was then I noticed that the woman who had screamed was now trying to run up to the front of the crowd of people at the gate, to get a little snippet of what was going on. Larry's eyes widened when he saw her bring out a cell phone and dialling a number, and he shoved me aside, storming towards the crowd.

"Stay back, all of you!" Larry commanded at the crowd, wafting his gun at them.

"What you think you're doing?!" a man yelled from behind the woman with the cell phone, coming out of nowhere.

"None of your business!" Larry retorted. "I'm actually helping you all here, keeping you away from the danger behind me, so stay away!"

"Don't point a gun at my wife then, asshole!" The man barged over to Larry, who was still bearing the gun.

"Please, just stay away!" Larry now pointed the gun at him. "_Don't_ go behind me! It's dangerous back there!"

"What are they _doing_?!" another woman cried out. "Are they breaking in there?!"

"_No_!" Larry yelled. "It's none of your business what's going on…"

"I think they are!" someone else said.

"Someone, call the cops! Quickly!" the woman shouted.

My mind was pounding, flooding with yells and orders as I watched this scene. Not being able to take any more noise accelerating my mind into a chaotic overdrive, I stumbled over to where Larry was, stood beside him, and loaded my own gun as a warning.

"_NO_!" I screamed. Everyone darted their heads towards me. Everything went silent. "You _dare _call the cops, then I will _shoot _this!" I now raised my gun, slowly. "Just don't get involved, you hear me?"

The man who Larry was still pointing his gun towards had the nerve to speak up.

"And who do you think _you _are, you little bitch? What gives _you_ the right to threaten us? Move out of my way."

_Such a worthless man_, my mind whispered, hoarsely. _Clearly a coward. Thinks he can get the better of you. You're stronger._

I didn't realise my own strength as I pushed Larry over onto the concrete, which startled a few people in the crowd as they sprawled away from us, making me feel pleased inside. Although the man was obviously taller than me, I still managed to get right into his face, digging my gun into his chin, making him gasp in shock. His wife backed away, ducking to her knees, with her hands gripping her head and mumbling wordless pleas to no one in particular.

_Worthless. Coward. He deserves to die. You're a fighter. Kill him. Kill. Kill. Kill._

"And what gives _you _the right to talk to _me_ like that? Huh?" I spat. "Don't try and threaten me with 'I'm going to call the cops' because if you do that then I'll just have to tear your _mind _out with this gun, okay?!"

"Get away from me! Who the fuck do you do think you are?"

His voice was shaking like bushes on a blustery day. I grinned at the sight of the fear in eyes. With all my strength I pinned him against the gate, making the terrified, overlooking crowd linger away from the action one by one, with help from Larry, who was pushing them all away with his own gun.

"You're not gonna call the cops, are you?" I questioned the man. "Because that's my father over there and if he's arrested and thrown into a cell, I have nowhere to go. I don't _have _anyone else. You don't want to be responsible for creating another orphan, do you?"

"N-No…"

"Let him go!" his wife pleaded, coming out of nowhere and shaking my shoulder.

"Ah, fuck off. I'm teaching your wannabe-badass husband here that he's gotta think about what he's doing before he does something…_idiotic_." I chuckled deceitfully. "Look at you both, so _pathetic_. Frightened of a fifteen year old…"

"You're _fifteen_?!" the wife cried.

"Yeah I am, so what? Now, you gonna run away before I do actually kill you?"

"Just let me go, you crazy little bitch!" the man whimpered.

_Did he just call you crazy? You're not crazy. You're not, you're not._

"What did you just call me?" I asked, in scarily calm voice.

The dangerous voice inside my head hurdled to the tip of my tongue, making a strange adrenaline kick inside me. It felt like bliss.

The man failed to answer me properly.

"Just let him go, please!" his wife cried.

"Did you just call me crazy?"

There was a wonderful tense silence of voices overpowering the man's blubbering.

_Kill him, kill him, kill him._

"With pleasure," I whispered, to no one in particular.

I was _so _close, I had my finger on the trigger…until I was pulled away the man, by Larry, who held me back firmly by my arms. I started screaming hysterically and kicking my legs as I watched the man and his wife make their unharmed escape like little weaklings.

"_No_!" I screamed. I tried to wriggle out of Larry's grasp, but he was just too strong for me. "_Let me go_! He called me crazy! I'm not crazy. I'm _not_. I'm _not_! Let me _go_, Larry!"

Larry harshly turned me around, grabbing my arm and twisting my other wrist, as he pinned me against the will.

"Come on, Shaylee!" he said, gruffly. "Snap out of it. It won't help. They're _not _worth it."

"Yes they _are_!" I yelled.

"Come on!" Larry started pulling me resolutely by my arm. "We need to meet your dad and Ken! They've broken in! Come on!"

Although I continued to kick and yell like a two year old having a temper tantrum, I followed Larry through the gate, and into the building (we got through the gate as Larry had his own lock-picking device in his jacket pocket, something dad had obviously ordered him to bring with him).

He dragged me down there like I was a ragdoll. Larry pulled me past a number of unconscious bodies, although some of them were now rotting corpses, with crimson blood making pretty patterns on their foreheads. We eventually were squeezing through the narrow alleyway around the side of the building to the back of the asylum, where a foul stench made me almost wretch and I could hear the strident sounds of mentally ill prisoners yelling through the windows high above us.

We continued, stepping over shattered glass and a number of rotting trash bags and food. Larry stopped me in my tracks when we travelled around a new corner, leading to a slightly wider pathway. There, we came across large back door reading _'Emergency Only'_. The door appeared to be slightly gaping open. I glanced above me where I saw a security camera was hanging loose on an end, the wires sparking. It had obviously been shot by dad or Ken in their cleverness, which was a relief.

Larry finally let go of my arm, but this time I didn't try and get away. I was panting hard, out of breath from travelling through the pointless alleyway that was so easy to get through. The people who made this building really could have done a better job. It was so easy to break in, I was surprised they hadn't refurbished it up to that point, the amount of escapes they'd had. They have re-located the asylum to Arkham Road in Cicero since, but at that point, I was amazed at how no one had noticed how so many people broke in and escaped.

It was strange how Larry immediately knew exactly the right way to go without stopping or checking if he was correct.

I was still panting hard and Larry casually leaned against the wall opposite me as we stopped outside the emergency door, lighting himself a line of marijuana, making me wince. I glared at him with my flaming brown eyes of anger, but he didn't seem to notice.

He stared at me like I had lost my mind, which I was beginning to believe could actually be true.

"What?" he said, exhaling the smoke.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my head and my anger overall which, at that point, seemed to be refusing to leave me.

"Why did you do that?"

That creepy, perilous voice of my demons decided to escape from the back of my throat again, but Larry didn't seem to care.

"What?" Larry seemed to be on repeat.

"Push me away from that man…when I was _about _to teach him a lesson!"

"Shaylee, I couldn't just stand there and watch you shoot someone."

"Puh. _What_? Didn't you listen to what my dad said?! Were you paying attention _at all_? He said 'shoot if you have to'…"

"Yeah, if you _have _to…"

"Are you trying to tell me those people deserved to live?"

Larry looked unbelievably disturbed, but I continued to glare at him. Voices were still swirling quietly, but I tried to ignore them. Larry gave up on his weed and flicked it away, but he didn't take his eyes off me.

"Shaylee, what's happened to you?" Larry asked, sounding almost upset.

"Nothing."

"Okay then. Why did you want to kill those people?"

"They were threatening to call the cops. I _couldn't _let that happen, right? And now, thanks to _you_, they _may_ go and call the cops now, because it's thanks to _you _they escaped! If I just shot them both then we wouldn't be worrying that the cops might be on our tracks right now!"

"Do you honestly think they're going to call the police after you just threatened to kill them if they did? I don't think so, kid."

"I have a _name_. And they might. They looked untrustworthy to me, you know."

"Shaylee, don't panic. Even if the cops _do _show up, we'll get away. You even said so yourself, we _always _do."

"I…I suppose. But I just don't want to risk it! I can't be separated from my dad, I just _can't_!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down."

"Why?"

"Because people could hear us, you know. See us."

"Dad's probably shot most of the people in there anyway. If not, then he's knocked them out."

"I guess…where _are _they, anyway?"

"Larry, it takes _time_ you know. Dad told me he takes his time on people now. I don't know why."

Larry paused for a few moments as he fidgeted around, shuffling his feet and stuttering quietly. I sensed the nervousness in him.

"What's up, Larry?" I asked, pretending to sound sympathetic.

"Shaylee…" he mumbled, "I think…"

"What?"

"I think…there's something wrong with your dad."

I walked closer to Larry, taking deep breaths as my heart started ripping out of my body.

"Oh?" I said. "There's something _wrong _with him, is there?"

"Yes. There really is."

"And what's that?"

I hoped and prayed he wouldn't bring schizophrenia or any other illness into it. I didn't want to talk about it.

"I think he's turning into…"

"Stop right there," I said, sharply. Larry's mouth shut. "There's nothing wrong with my dad. He's perfectly fine, okay?"

"Shaylee, you can't stand there and say your father is 'fine'. You _must _know there's something wrong with him. _Surely _you know."

I folded my arms, keeping the gun in my grasp.

"What sort of things are we talking about here? Because if you have something to say about my dad, don't be shy. After all, I know him better than anyone, right? Better than you."

"I've known your dad since we were in school. I think I know him pretty well."

"I'm his _daughter_. I know him inside and out! I've seen him at his _very _worst."

"Okay then. So what _is _wrong with him, if you know so much?"

"Don't get cocky with me, pal. There's _nothing _wrong with him, okay? I told you."

"That's a load of shit."

"Is it really? Come on then, 'dad's best friend', _you _tell me what's wrong with him."

Larry paused as he sighed heavily. He managed to stand above me, as his walks were unsteady. I raised my eyebrows, questionably, flicking my pigtails over my shoulders.

"I think…your dad is a psychopath," Larry whispered.

My heart skipped a beat.

"A what?" I spat.

"Don't you _know _what that is?" Larry asked, as if I was stupid.

"Of course I do, I'm not _stupid_."

"Well then. _That's _what I think."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"You think my father is a psychopath, do you?"

"Think about what he's _doing_, Shaylee. Just think about it. He's killing people every day like he's addicted to it...torturing people...like it's the only thing he knows…he should at least have a _reason _to take all his anger out on people. Seems like–"

"Huh, the word 'psychopath' is _so _overused and under-analysed. I hate to break it to you, Larry, but…psychopaths…they lack empathy, don't they? I should know, my mom studied psychiatry. She _told _me these things, you see." (She didn't really, but I found her old study work in her room as a kid and found out all these facts). "My dad _has _empathy, thank you very much. With me. He _loves _me. Psychos don't know _how _to love. So there. _I'm_ not one either. I _can't _be. I love my dad more than anything, I don't _care _about some of things he does, and…I'm in love with my boyfriend, too, so _I'm _not one either before you come a conclusion that–"

"You have a _boyfriend_?"

"Don't sound so surprised, pal. Didn't dad tell you? We've been together four months now and we're very happy. Even girls like me can be loved, you know." Nothing was said for a few moments as Larry continued to stare at me. "Look, my dad's _not _a psycho, okay? You may think he is, but he isn't…"

"If he isn't, he's going down that path…"

"Oh just shut _up_! There will so many people in _there_ that _are _psychopaths. Hey, thinking about it…isn't _Harley _a psychopath?"

"No. No, she's not," Larry cut in, defensively.

"Whoa, calm down…"

"You think you're really smart, don't you, little girl?"

Larry was suddenly in my face, but his attempt to be threatening was so laughable that I didn't even flinch.

"And you think _you_ are, getting in a fifteen year old girl's face, trying to be the big man? Stupid bastard, you are. Look at you. Huh? You think you're such a badass like you used to be, when you're in fact a _coward_, not even wanting to do this heist in the first place!"

"Because it's dangerous, can't you see that?! I should know. Especially when someone as young as you is involved."

"It might be, but…oh just _shut up_, Larry. Don't get me angry, really…you won't like it. Not at…_all_. Oh and why are you suddenly getting all defensive when I mention the scum that is Harley? _That's _interesting, isn't it?"

"Because, firstly, she _isn't_ a psycho, and secondly, she isn't scum, so I'd think twice about what you're saying, young lady."

I burst into mocking sniggers.

"She's not _scum_? Yeah, okay then. You're not scum if you murder a mother for no reason. Okay." I felt proud when Larry didn't answer back this time. "And she's not a psycho? Then what's she doing in an asylum for the criminally _insane_?" I pointed my gun towards the building. "Clearly she's mad, Larry, isn't she? You're just like dad, why is _everyone _so besotted with the little bitch? What makes her so special? And don't say 'because she's my friend' because that's just a shitty excuse!" Larry remained quiet. "What's the truth, Larry, huh? Do _you _know why my dad is so keen to help her? Because I'm totally confused as to why."

All I had to do was look straight into Larry's eyes to know the answer. He put his head down as he started to back away from me.

"You want to know the truth?" Larry said. "The real truth? Because unlike your dad, I'm willing to tell you everything."

"I'd be fascinated to know, Larry."

"But don't be surprised if you get angry. You asked, so you'll face your own consequences."

"That's fine with me. I'd be interested to know…what sort of things this woman does that makes her so special."

"Okay, Shaylee. Truthfully? All I know is that your father and Harley are quite attracted to each other, ya know. I know they made a deal of some sort."

"A _deal_? What for?"

"That's the thing. I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. It's probably very important, though."

"Obviously."

I tried to go along with this but it seemed that Larry was the King of Compulsive Liars.

"Well…what do _you _think is going on between your dad and Harley? Just out of interest?" he asked.

I sighed.

"I honestly don't know. I know they're doing crime together but…I don't know any more than that, I think…I think dad might be sleeping with her…I asked him about it…and he seemed quite defensive about it…I don't know why he'd be having sex with her, though, I mean, what for?"

"Got it in a nutshell."

Those words hit into my heart like a bullet. My breath trembled as I felt my head started to reel more and more. I even took a step backwards and nearly tripped over my own foot. I felt my eyes watering, so I quickly turned away.

"W-What?"

"Look at me, Shaylee. You…you're right. He _is _sleeping with her. Every day."

I exhaled sharply multiple times before I faced Larry again.

"I _fucking _knew it. But…but why?"

"_I_ don't know…"

"He hasn't _told _you?"

"No, he…he's even said to me he doesn't know why..."

"But why would he when she _killed_–?"

"Shaylee, don't you think this just hurts you, as well…"

"What? What do you mean?"

"You want to know the truth, right? So I'll tell you the truth. I'm _in love _with that woman…"

"You…you _what_?"

"There you go, I said it." I felt a tear rolling down my cheek and flicked the black tear away from my face in frustration.

"I have been for years…" Larry said.

"You were _married_!"

"I know…but, I…" He sighed. "I love her, and _hate _her at the same time. She broke my marriage up…"

"Well that was _your _fault, as well!"

"Just don't talk about it. I'd even argue, that she broke _your _parents' relationship up, too!"

"My parents _never _broke up!" I shouted, feeling a sudden burst of anger. "Harleen…she _killed _my mother! _Why_?! Why did she?"

Larry became silent again, ruffling his greasy blonde hair. The awkwardness of the silence told me everything. I rubbed another tear away, sauntering over to Larry, who refused to look at me.

"That face tells me everything," I said, tenderly. "You _know_, don't you?" Nothing. "_Don't you_?"

"No, I don't."

"Don't _lie _to me!"

"Shaylee, keep your voice down. Look, I don't _know _why your mom was shot…and I _don't _know why your father and Harley are sleeping together. I don't know, maybe you're dad's attracted to her, like I said?"

"_No_!" I screamed.

"Quiet!"

"No! Why should I? And where _is _dad and Ken with the little bitch? You _do _know why Harley killed my mom, don't you? I can tell by your face! Tell me, Larry. Tell me _right now_, or I will kill you."

"No, you won't."

"_Don't _underestimate me, asshole! I _will_. And guess what? My dad won't care. In fact, he'd be _proud _of me! I don't know why he still bothers with you. So _tell _me…or I will _shoot_!"

I pointed my gun towards his face, but he still didn't look phased. Like Ken, I think he was used to this happening to him.

"Shaylee, you'd never do that," Larry said. "Not in a million years."

"You don't _know_ me!"

"Shut up!"

"No! You're _going_ to tell me! Or I'm going to kill you…"

I jumped a mile when suddenly the black door next to us swung open so harshly that it slammed against the brick wall. Dad and Ken came rushing out, and in dad's hand was a woman with her hair tied in messy pigtails like myself, her face dripping with black and red makeup. She was wearing the sluttiest outfit you could imagine, a short leather skirt with bare legs and black knee-length boots and a corset that showed much of her cleavage. It made me wince when I saw her tripping out of the door, holding dad's hand and giggling like a maniac.

That was because she _was _a maniac. It was Harleen Quinzel…or Harley Quinn herself, in my presence.

Larry stood back and I removed my gun away from his face.

"Let's get out of here," Ken said, pushing past me and Larry.

Dad was about to start following him, until he stopped and looked at me, worry was filling his eyes. I felt Larry dash off after Ken.

"Come _on_, Jackie boy," Harley moaned. "Let's make a _move_! Before the people in there wake up, puddin'."

She attempted to drag him along with her, but dad fiercely let go of her hand and pushed her violently against the wall. I grinned widely at the sight of her suffering.

"Shut up a minute," Dad snarled at her. "I've done you a _favour _here so the least you can do is _shut up_." He turned back to me. "Come here, sweetheart." I did so and looked up at him with innocent eyes. "You're not hurt, are you? Is everything okay? How's your head?"

"I'm fine, dad…I'm just…a bit angry," I replied, as I wanted to be honest.

"Aw…alright, alright." Dad pulled me into a hug. "Calm yourself."

"Dad, I _can't_…Larry said…"

"_What_ did Larry say? What has he done to you?"

"He hasn't done anything, dad, but…he said…" I lowered my voice. "I think he knows why that thing over there killed mom."

"I have a _name_!" Harley suddenly cried out, stumbling to her feet. "Rude! And who are _you_?!"

I came out of dad's hug and glared at the murderer before me.

"I, Miss Quinzel…"

"_Quinn_…" she corrected.

"Whatever…I am Jack's daughter, Shaylee. Have you forgotten he had me, huh?"

"_Course _I didn't forget…hey, it's so _cute_! How could I forget?"

"What?"

"The fact he has _you_…it's cute."

I shook my head vigorously, trying to get her and my own madness out of my banging mind. I felt dad's leather glove gently touch my shoulder and I immediately looked up to face him.

"I could hear you and Larry were having a big discussion," he said.

"Oh, shit, you _did_?" I asked.

"Yeah, you were _so _disruptive!" Harley giggled.

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped at her.

Harley gasped waggled her pigtails in the air.

"Your daughter is _so rude_!" she gasped. "Is that any way to treat your dad's girlfriend? Hmm?"

My eyes widened, as I exchanged horror-filled glances to them both, clinging onto dad as I did.

"What?" I spluttered. "_What_?"

"Harley, don't be ridiculous!" Dad barked.

"I'm _not_!" she yelled, but then started giggling again when dad started walking up to her, eventually making her back up against the wall.

Harley laughed joyfully even when dad launched himself at her, firmly pinning her up against the wall by her wrists. She looked soppily into his eyes like she was a puppy begging for food. It made my stomach churn.

"You forgot something I told you _a long time ago_," Dad hissed. "We will _never _be together."

"Not what you said when you came back for more!"

Harley laughed insanely into his face, making dad slap her hard, but she still continued to laugh.

Dad had no collar to keep her against the wall, so instead, he used her throat. Harley gagged in his grasp, making me laugh under my breath.

I loved this. Seeing my mother's murderer being choked until she gasped for air by my own father. I suddenly didn't care about what Harley just blurted out, because I knew it was a lie. I was right all along, she _was_ obsessed with my dad and always had been. Her obsession probably made her go crazy. It's ironic because she studied psychology along with my mom, yet she ended up having some sort of disorder she never knew about. I knew it wasn't as severe as what I had, but I guessed it was some kind of OCD. A _huge _dose of OCD, mind you.

"Listen here, you little bitch," Dad went on. "You seem to forget a lot of things, don't you? I said to you I'd _help_ you…in return for _you_ helping _me_ provide for me and my daughter. That's what you _promised_, isn't it? That doesn't mean I'm your man because I've fucked you a couple of times recently."

"But you enjoyed it. And anyway…you told me you _cared_, J!"

"Shut your _fucking_ mouth right now. Yes, maybe I did tell you that, but my mind makes the think and say things that I don't _mean_. It's my _fucking _head. Maybe I did care about you _a long time ago_…but not anymore. My mind _does _that to me, Harley. The only reason I'm helping you is because you're helping _me_ _provide _because Shaylee and I have _nothing_. That was our _deal_. If it weren't for that I wouldn't have bothered with you, you know that? You killed my Diana, remember?"

"Actually, Jack, that was…"

"_Shut up_!" Dad gripped her neck harder. "We're in a _partnership_, not a relationship. When will you get that through that thick little skull of yours? I _don't _love you and never will." Dad did this weird licking of his lips, like a snake, that I'd never seen up until that moment. "Now, you'll show some respect to my daughter otherwise I won't bother with you anymore, understand?"

"Aw, puddin', _please_. She needs to show respect to me first, then."

I very nearly stormed over to take my turn in holding her by the throat, but I managed to control myself for once.

I was surprised when dad addressed me, next.

"Shut the door, darling."

"Yes, daddy."

I did as I was told, which I was surprised to learn was heavy and took a lot of strength to close.

"How the hell did you even get in?" I asked. "Wasn't this door locked?"

"No, sweetie," Dad said. "Of course it wasn't, because the people who work here are idiotic morons who don't check anything! Didn't I say Gotham City's full of 30 million fools?"

Dad then released Harley and she collapsed onto her knees, coughing and fighting back for her breath. She _still _had the nerve to start snickering again. I looked down on the scum in disgust, gripping onto my gun even tighter.

Dad then came over to me, looking guilty as he put his hands in his pockets, but we both darted our heads down the pathway when we saw Ken and Larry in the far distance, waving their arms, crazily.

"Hey, Jack!" Ken called. "Are you coming or what? We need to get away before we're caught!"

"Calm down, shithead!" Dad shouted back. "We're coming! Get outta the gate and start the fucking car up before anything else happens! And Larry?"

"Yeah?"

"I need a word with you afterwards."

"Why?" Larry asked.

"Don't question me, I just _do_! Now, go!"

Larry and Ken sprinted away, while dad pulled Harley up to her feet and pushed her in front of us so she could make her way to the grounds. She laughed crazily as she skipped down the pathway, carelessly tripping over nothing. Dad sighed and grabbed my free hand and held it tightly. It was trembling hard, so I squeezed it back as he led me after her. He then lowered his voice as he led me down the secret passageway.

"So what's this about Larry?" he whispered.

"Well, we got into a big debate." I lowered my voice as much as I could. "I asked him why you're so keen to help Harley, and he said that you'd made some sort of deal but he didn't know what it was, and he told me that you and Harley were sleeping together...but, like...he told me you were sleeping together _every day _like you were together...I didn't want to believe it, but now I have to, because…you just revealed everything."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Dad…"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you just _tell me_?"

I tugged on his coat to make him stop in his tracks, which he did. He looked at me, almost with an embarrassed expression.

"Tell you what?"

"Dad…you know. Tell me about this deal you made with Harley? That you're only working with her to help provide for me because it's so hard on your own. That tells me _everything_ why you're working together, and it's...actually reasonable, because with her track record can help you with any sort of crime to get us what we need. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Well, because…I thought it was pointless, to be honest, honey. It wouldn't have mattered why I was working with her because I _knew _you'd still be mad at me whatever the reason…like you were this morning."

"But, dad…I rather you _tell_ me than keep quiet about it. That's what got me _more _frustrated, was that you wouldn't tell me _anything_…and when I asked you about it you got all defensive and–"

"Well, now you know."

"But I _was_ right. You _are _sleeping with her."

"Ah, not really."

We started walking down again, this time picking up our speed.

"You just said that you _were_," I said. "And Larry told me you have been every day since she escaped."

"Oh did he now? Ha! Don't listen to _Larry_, baby, he's the biggest tell-tale I know. Shaylee, I've had sex with her three times since she escaped in January. That doesn't make us…you know…lovers. It just means we've fucked a couple of times. It meant nothing. Not to me, anyway."

"But why did you do it?"

"I don't know. Shaylee, I'm a single, grown man. These things happen. Besides, it made her shut up when she kept going on and on about it."

I said nothing more until eventually we were nearly at the end of the path, leading to the grounds of the asylum. We'd caught up with Harley by that time, and she was about to prance out from behind the wall, ready to just make a run for it. She yelped when dad pulled her backwards by her tight little corset.

"Hey!" she giggled. "Watch the corset, J!"

"Shhh! Be quiet. We have to make sure the coast is clear before we make a move. Don't be a fool, Harley."

"I'll check, dad," I offered, immediately.

Dad nodded, approvingly, as I budged past Harley and peeped around the wall. Ken and Larry were far down the grounds, each now with thuggish hoods over their heads, near to the gate, and they were smoking something, probably marijuana. I noticed that all the bodies that were there before had vanished, so I glanced around to look for them, but I had no luck.

"Well?" Dad said into my ear. "Is it okay to go?"

"I think so. But dad, where have all the bodies gone? What's happened to them?"

"Ahh, Larry and Ken must've disposed of 'em." Harley laughed, loudly, but dad lightly hit her on the back of the head. "_Shush_. Yes, Shaylee, the boys must've got rid of 'em, probably chucked them behind a bush somewhere."

"See? They're not _totally_ useless," Harley said.

"You're right, they're not," Dad sniggered, licking his lips again. "Let's go then, but first, put these on."

Dad dug into one of his larger pockets inside his coat and revealed two masks that were shaped and decorated like a clown faces, with red and blue noses and miserable expressions. Harley squealed excitedly, only to be shushed by dad again, but I looked completely baffled.

"What are _those_?" I asked.

"Are you _blind_?" Harley pulled a face at me like I was a complete idiot. "They're _masks_!"

Harley's voice kept changing tones, which made me get a little nervous of her for the first time.

"Quiet, Harls," Dad ordered, and she immediately shut her mouth, but continued to grin at him with stomach-wrenching corniness in her eyes. "They're for disguises, my love," Dad explained to me. "You won't need one. They're for me and Harley only. You know I always got a _trick _up my sleeve, doncha? We gotta make sure we're not identified."

"Ahh, I see." Dad handed Harley one of the masks. "How come I'm not allowed one?"

"Because, Shay, you don't _need_ one. You don't have a…uh…a _reputation _in this City, do you? _We _do, however. We gotta keep ourselves hidden, and if it's _clowns_, surely, they'll keep people away. Look at 'em, they're terrifying. Nasty little things."

They placed their clown masks over their faces, which at first made me shuffle back with alarm because they _did _look majorly creepy. Dad peered out just one more time before he gave us the nod of approval to make a move.

Harley skipped out first, giggling quietly. Dad had obviously given her a handgun of her own before they escaped, because she now revealed it from her skirt pocket (since when do skirts have pockets, I thought). We watched her as she backed up against the front of the building, and I noticed Larry and Ken were beckoning her over to the gate, while also pushing people away at the gate, who were trying to poke their noses in, by threatening them with their guns.

"Okay, let's go, Shay," Dad said to me, his voice sounding muffled under his mask.

He took my hand and pulled me out from behind the wall, and I carefully peered around me as we ran over to Harley. Dad let go of my hand as himself and Harley took each other's. They started to slowly creep their way over to Larry and Ken, tracing along the wall, but I stayed very still.

_Why are they holding hands?_

"I don't know," I whispered to the voice that had suddenly decided to make an appearance. "But don't question it. Just…just leave it. He don't love her."

_Remember when your mom and dad used to do that?_

"Shut up."

_Now they can't, because your mom is no longer with us. And who's responsible for that? Harley Quinn._

"Who _are _you and why are you talking _shit_?"

I gripped onto my head all of a sudden, as the schizophrenia began to trigger a gradual anxiety attack. My feet became untameable. I felt everything around me became as swirly picture, making me snap my eyes shut.

_Look at you, Shaylee, whimpering like a coward._

"No, no I'm _not_."

"Shaylee?"

My eyes flipped open, to see dad had turned around, along with Harley, who had her hand on her hip impatiently, looking like she couldn't care less.

_You set out to do something, and you haven't done it yet._

My eyes widened.

_Listen closely._

"I'm tired of listening. I'm tired of _you_."

"Look at your daughter talking to herself," I heard Harley laugh.

I shot my head towards her with a fierce glare.

My gun was _still _loaded and _still _in my right hand.

I wanted to be careful, but I couldn't control myself.

"_Shut up_!" Dad shouted.

I saw Harley fall to the floor after a hard slap.

_Isn't that just joyous? Seeing her fall to the ground like that?_

"Yes," I answered to the voice. "I mean, no…I mean…"

_Pull yourself together, you useless girl._

"No I'm _not_!" I yelled.

"Shaylee!" Dad cried. I felt his hand on my elbow.

"No!" I flinched away sharply, then addressed the voice. "Talk to me."

"Shaylee, it's okay."

I ignored him. I could barely _hear _him because of the deafening whisper that was filling up my mind.

_Get a grip, Shaylee, and complete your task. Now's your chance._

All I could see now were blurred red flames in front of me. My mind was churning with colours and orders, making me feel dizzy. I was pacing up and down, trying to find my feet. I blinked several times to cure my distorted image, but once again, nothing seemed to be connecting.

Then I saw larger flames before me, but I was freezing. I saw a window and a helpless cowering body before my feet. I slowly reached out for it but my hand went through it, like it was a ghost. My vision was so horrible I couldn't make out anything.

My mind erupted with ear-splitting screams of terror. A gunshot fired. I saw a figure with a clown mask and a girl with blonde hair begging for her life. It looked like a classroom. I blinked again, this time once again seeing the brick walls of the asylum, but then it went back to a marble floor.

Then that same voice came again.

_Kill_, it said. _Kill. Kill. Kill._

I began to pant hard. My gun nearly slipped out of my hand because of my sweaty palms. I was lucky I wasn't falling to my knees, as I managed to stay on my own two feet, but I was stumbling all over the place.

Then I belted a shrill scream.

"Shaylee!"

I felt dad's hands trying to grab my arms, but I sharply kicked away.

"Let go, dad."

I surprised myself with how calm my voice was. I exhaled deeply as I turned around scowled at Harley, who had the cheek to be laughing at me behind her mask.

_Kill, kill, kill._

"Why do I see flames?" I asked her, in a breathy voice.

I couldn't control it, my voice just decided to come out like that.

"There's no flames, silly!" she squealed.

"Aren't there?"

Dad now towered above me in his gruesome-looking mask.

"Shaylee, you're seeing things," he told me. "You're okay. Come 'ere, loony, it's okay."

This time, I allowed dad to hold me, that didn't stop everything around me burning and questioning myself.

I heard a scream.

Dad felt me flinch and held me closer.

"What was that?" I asked, still in a calm, eerie voice.

"What was what?" Dad questioned, sounding completely puzzled.

"Can't you hear it?"

"What?"

"The screaming."

"Shaylee…"

"Dad, there it is _again_…"

I abruptly backed away from dad, but I stood very still.

"What is she on about?" Harley piped up. "Don't we need to make a move before we're caught, J? _J_?"

"_Shut up_!" I yelled. I began to walk over to her, glaring at her with the kill in my eyes. "You can't _hear _it?"

"Shaylee, calm down…" Dad said, trying to hold me back.

"_No_!" I screamed.

They told me to grab Harley. So I did. I grabbed her by her _hair _and threw her to the ground. I immediately pointed my gun towards her.

"Shay, what are you _doing_?" Larry cried. I hadn't realised Larry and Ken had come rushing over by now. "Stop it! We need to move the fuck on before we're caught! They'll be people–"

"_Shut up everyone_!" Everything around me silenced. "I want to hear them."

I started looking around me, frantically, searching for the person who was screaming.

"What?" Larry said.

"You're telling me you can't hear it? My mom is _screaming_!"

"Jack, oh my god...she's _hearing_ things!" Ken cried. "She's having a panic attack of some sort!"

"No I'm _not_! I'm not crazy, I'm not. I can hear it. I _can_." Harley was still on the floor, but she was smiling up at me. "No one come near me! This is between me and this piece of shit!"

"Shaylee, get away from her right now!" Larry yelled.

"You leave her _be_," Dad hissed at him.

I squinted my eyes I looked upwards to see dad bearing his gun at the two of them.

"But…but…she's…" Larry fumbled.

"She's _what_?" Dad asked. "Don't touch her, it'll only make things _worse_."

"Are you even concerned what's happening to her right now?" Ken stammered.

"Yes, I am concerned, actually," Dad replied. "Just leave her alone."

I suddenly had an urge inside me that made me rip off Harley's mask and dig my gun right into her head. She wasn't laughing now.

"Tell me, Harley," I said, calmly, "when you were holding my mom like this did she scream?"

"No…" Harley said. "Because I didn't have her like this!"

"Don't you fucking _dare_…"

"Listen you idiot, I never _meant _to shoot your mom, okay?!"

"And you think I'm going to believe _that_?"

"Harley, get up and come with us!" Larry said.

"You be quiet!" I yelled at Larry. "This is between me and Harley and my mom's murder! It's got nothing to do with you. You never even _knew _my mom, did you?"

"Oh yes he did!" Harley declared.

I stared at her.

"W-What?"

"Of course he knew Diana. Not _really _well, but he met her a couple of times, didn't ya, Larry? At your wedding was one time, right? In fact, he wish he never did meet her, you know, Shay. He _hated _her."

"So did _you_."

"No I didn't. Your mom was my friend."

As Harley continued, my vision became clearer. I saw the true world around me again, but the noises in my head continued to crash.

"It's all _his _fault!" Harley pointed at Larry. "_He's _the one who wanted your mom _away _from Jack. _Not_ me!"

Dad suddenly became enraged and grabbed Larry by the collar.

"Is this _true_?" he questioned, spitting in his face.

"Of course it's not true!" Larry exclaimed. "Are you seriously going to believe the chick from the asylum?"

I groaned loudly as I stood up, removing the gun from Harley's head. I paced back and forth, attempting to cool myself down.

"Then what _is _the truth?!" I demanded. "Who _is _responsible? Because whoever it is, I'm going to kill you…I want an explanation! And if you don't give me one, I'll kill _both _of you!"

"I'll be happy to assist you on _that_, Shaylee," Dad said, still holding Larry, almost aloft in the air.

"Guys we need to _move_," Ken interrupted. "There's people watching…"

Dad grunted as he violently chucked Larry to the ground, making him join Harley on the concrete.

"Oh, you can _shut up_," Dad snarled.

He loaded his gun and darted it towards Ken.

"Wait, wait, wait…Jack…I…" Ken stuttered.

The bullet exploded from dad's gun and Ken's life ended before my eyes. I didn't even flinch at the sight. Larry edged away from Ken's corpse.

"Now, guys," Dad addressed Harley and Larry, like a shooting had never happened. "What _is _the truth?"

I watched him point his gun at the two of them, who still struggled on the concrete.

"J, haven't you noticed, like, after I quit my job an' then joined you guys' gang, Larry _always _told us that we had to do crime before our _families_ because it was like a job?" Harley recalled. "Because _all _he wanted was _money_. That's _all _we stole, isn't it?"

"That's bullshit!" Larry protested.

"It's not, Larry," Dad said. "You _did _say that and we _did _always steal money. That's all you were interested in. That's _still _all you're interested in _now_. Still wanting your big fortune."

"When did I ever say that?" Larry questioned.

"You _always_ said that it was pathetic to put our families before our crimes to get money," Harley said. "You went on and _on_ about how _you _need the money for business and blah blah blah, but _Jack _needed it too, just for his family's sake, not for the sake of just _having _it. Ya know? It was okay for _me_, because I _have _no family, but, Jack on the other hand, had Diana and Shay, and you had Marilynn. Remember? Jack _always _said that he was doing crime to provide for Diana and Shaylee because he had no other choice, right? And you didn't like that. You just wanted the money _all _for yourself and you _used _us, so actually you're the pathetic one, not Jack. But you never had the _balls _to admit that was the truth."

"Oh you do come out with some funny bullshit, Harley," Larry said.

"_You're _the bullshitter, Larry. You've always been a charming lil' liar, haven't ya, sweetie? I've wanted to say what _I _thought for _years_ so I'm _gonna_! You always moaned and bitched about Jack and Diana and their daughter to _me_, in hopes I would sympathise with you and get me into bed."

"Larry…" I cut in, the noises still clanging off the walls of my mind. "Were you…_jealous _of my mom? Is that was it was? Did you think she was _getting in the way _of you and dad's friendship? Well…more like crime partnership."

"No, of course not."

"You're a liar," Dad said. We all stared at him in shock that he actually defended Harley and not Larry. "You're nothing but a two-faced _liar_! It _all _makes sense now…"

Dad started shaking his head, as his voice turned into a frightening growl.

"But dad, _Harley's _the one who _killed _mom!" I exclaimed.

"Hey, sweetie, it was an accident! I only did it to shut _him _up!" Harley shouted.

She looked around her for a moment with her pale blue eyes. She fidgeted with her mask that I had thrown aside.

"I didn't _want _to do it! I never even meant for it to happen that night at the jewellery store! Tell 'em the truth, Larry…you _wanted_ Diana out of way, didn't you? Because you wanted Jack to be committed to our _money-grabbing_ gang and you felt he wasn't interested in going on this big bank heist you were planning, because he was with his fiancée and his daughter all the time…"

"He beat the shit out of her anyway!" Larry interrupted. "He didn't really care about her…"

Dad chuckled, dangerously.

"Oh you _do _make me laugh," he spat.

"But Harley…why _did _you shoot my mom?" I asked, feeling the tears starting to sting. "Why _did_ you? Is it because you're crazy or something?"

"_No_…no I'm not crazy…it was an accident. I _swear_."

Dad and I both stared at Harley, not sure to believe her or not. She was an announced insane criminally, after all, but she actually started to sound genuine and almost kind at that moment, her voice sounded soft and sympathetic. She very nearly sounded like the intelligent medical student she once was.

"Larry wanted her away for a while so Jack would go back to him and help him get some money by going on this big heist he'd organised. Jack had only been hanging around with me, Rob and Ken at the time 'cos they had fallen out…Larry told me to injure Diana so she could be, uh…away in _hospital _so Jack didn't spend as much time with her and would come running back to Larry for help and a _shoulder _to cry on because _you knew _that he would! I didn't mean to actually _kill _Diana…I didn't, I…just to hurt her just….a _tiny weeny _bit. N-No…let me explain...you think _I'm _crazy? _Larry _is the one who's crazy. He's such an idiot and a cold-hearted bastard who doesn't give a _fuck _about family life. Only money. Look what you did to Marilynn, Larry. All you two ever argued about was money…"

"You leave my wife out this, Harley!"

Larry leaped to his feet and loomed above his ex-lover.

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard.

"But…I don't understand," I whimpered. "I don't _get_ it. That night, you…you seemed so happy, Harley…full of adrenaline…like you _wanted _to kill her…like you _meant _to do it."

"I _did _have an almighty adrenaline that night," Harley replied, biting her tongue with guilt. "It's because I was doing a job for Jack, and I _always _get like that, don't I, J?"

"I'll say," Dad said.

"And…and when your mom arrived on the scene I took the chance to try and injure her…" Harley explained. "I really _didn't _want to do it, but in the heat of moment, I remembered Larry had threatened to kill me and my friend Pam and if I didn't and he threatened to pour gasoline on my property...I just couldn't…"

There was a horrible silence.

I didn't see flames anymore. Just water. It was running down my face and wouldn't stop. It wasn't completely silent, though. Just quiet. My brain was reeling, but I didn't seem to listen to it now.

"So, my Diana a _distraction_, was she?!" Dad suddenly roared. He now was sauntering towards Larry, who backed away. "I told you from the start that I was only doing it to put food in my Diana and my little girl's _mouths_ and _you_…you're such an _idiot_, aren't you? Harley's right, all you care about is _money_. I wasn't _focused_ on the gang? I didn't wanna do the bank heist? I think you'll find I _did_! _You _were the one fucking up _your _life fucking other women while you were married to a beautiful woman. _That's _the reason I didn't bother with you for a while because…being in a criminal gang wasn't about fucking each other…it was about _proving _a _point _to the world, wasn't it? _That's _what you told me. You're just a jealous bastard, aren't you? You make no _sense_!"

"Jealous of your Diana? Jack, I gave you a choice. I said to you, it's the gang or your family…and you chose your family!"

"Of _course _I did! They are my life! Much more important than _you _and your silly desire to become a mob dealer and _don't _deny that's not the truth! Diana was the love of my _life_…"

"Which is why you beat her, yeah?"

"Fucking shut up!" Dad viciously plunged the gun into his chest. "Oh and I must say, Larry, you're a fucking good actor, aren't you? That day after she died and I came to your tavern with Shaylee to protect ourselves from the cops, you acted _so _innocent…acting like you knew _nothing _about it. You acted _so _sympathetic…you were secretly pleased, weren't you?"

"Of course I wasn't, you dumbass! I never _meant _for Diana to be killed, Jack…you must _know _that."

"Oh so Harley _does _speak the truth? You _did _want her hurt, didn't you? Huh?" Larry was speechless. "I don't know why I ever trusted you…you were my closest friend…I thought you were a good man at first…but I've known all along that you're nothing but a deceitful liar. All you wanted was money and power…_that's _nothing…this world is pitiful because it's full of people like _you_!"

"You're one to talk, Jack. As soon as Diana died, you came _straight _back to me and what did we do? We went and robbed some money. So you're one to talk about wanting money. You've _never_ stopped doing crime, you keep doing it like it's an addiction, so don't stand there and tell me you only do it to provide for your brat."

"Shaylee is _far _from a brat, so I'd keep your mouth _shut _otherwise you'll be drowning in your own blood very soon at this rate!" Dad's voice was so full hatred that I couldn't help but listen closer. "Stealing the money that day was _your _suggestion, Larry, _not_ mine! I should've realised sooner that you were good for _nothing_! You're obsessed with power, aren't you? Yet, you have _nothing_. Just a little tavern that's not even a business anymore. And you have _nothing _to threaten _me _with!"

"Jack, you must understand, I _never _wanted your fiancée to die–"

"But she _is _dead…and it's _your _fault!"

"_My _fault? Harley's the one who shot her! _And _pleaded guilty to it, I should add!"

"I had a track record!" Harley shrieked. "They would have found me guilty _anyway_, what was the point in lying about it?"

"I can't believe after all these years I've been so stupid," Dad continued. "Never realised the true man you are. Harley, why didn't you tell me all of this before?"

"Uhh...I don't know," Harley said. "I guess I didn't know how to tell you. I would have broken your heart…but…in the heat of the moment just now I just sorta came out with it. I-I'm sorry, Jack."

"Oh, no. Don't be sorry, Harley." Dad shook his head at Larry. "How could I have been so _thoughtless_?"

It was then I realised. I was still in the test. And I wasn't going to fail.

"Dad?" I cut in.

"What is it, Shaylee?"

"I didn't tell Larry or Harley this," I continued, "but I set out today to kill the person responsible for killing my mother. For so many years I've had hatred towards Harley because I thought she _hated _my mom and killed her for no reason…and it turns out…the man who my dad's oldest friend…_he_…is responsible for that little 'accident' to happen. I was right all along. You're nothing but a coward…not even having the courage to hurt my mom _yourself_…and then making someone else look like the purest of evil. Do you want to know…why I want to kill him right now, daddy?"

"I'd be _so _interested to know, my love."

I glared back at Larry, who did the same back to me.

"You've made my dad believe all his life that crime is showing people's true colours…and you have, so I guess that's _something _you've done that's useful. He's always told _me _money is worthless. But _you_…a man so obsessed with it and gaining power which you never got…that obsession made you so…_heartless_…you'd even consider injuring my mom just so my dad would come back to you for help so could claim your big fortune? Just so you could get what you want? People say me and _my _dad are scum and evil people…but we have things in our minds we can't control that make us a _little _bad sometimes…in fact…it's still driving me mad right as I speak, Larry…I can still hear the screaming, you know. _You _have _nothing wrong_ with you…and you had the nerve back there to call my father a psychopath…"

"You _what_?" Dad yelled, demonically, grabbing Larry and placing the gun into his neck.

"Dad…let me finish, calm down…" I said in a gentle voice which made even Harley seem nervous. "There's nothing wrong with you mentally, Larry, yet I consider you to be the worst sort of person Gotham could _ever _see. Harley may have killed my mom…but it's _your_ doing. It may have been an accident…but that accident was _your _intention…and for _that_…" I sighed heavily, trying to calm the voices. "For that…I'm going to kill you."

"No, no…please…" Larry said, his voice now trembling. "Listen, Jack…I…I never meant for it to happen, I swear, I should've told you, and…I was an idiot, I was selfish and corrupted back then…"

"Oh here we go with the little feel sorry for me speech," Dad hissed. "I don't wanna here 'I'm a changed man now'…"

"No, no, no, just listen…"

"There's no need, Larry. You have nothing to _live _for. You failed. You betrayed me…and you made Harley look like the scum of the earth…"

"She _is_…" Larry said.

"Not what you said before, is it?" I pointed out.

"Uh…Jack…" Harley cut in, quietly.

"Hush, Harley," Dad snapped. "I need to teach Larry Torres a thing or two. In fact, why doesn't the person who you affected the _most _take the pleasure in watching you die?"

Dad threw Larry to the ground and ripped off the mask from his face. Now I could finally see his expression, it was one of pure and utter disgust. I could see the hatred in his eyes, his face was bright red and he almost looked like he was about to cry.

"Shaylee?"

I gripped onto my gun, shutting my eyes and blinking firmly before I made my way over to dad's side and looked at the power-hungry scum below my feet.

I pointed my gun towards him.

_Kill. Kill. Kill._

"Are you okay to sit there and watch me shoot _now_, Larry?" I scolded.

"W-Wait, Shaylee…please…Jack…you seriously _can't_ do this…"

"Why not?"

"Jack!" Harley yelled.

"_What_?!" Dad barked.

"We have company, puddin'," she squeaked and tensely pointed behind her.

We all looked to face what was approaching at the gate. Two cop cars had parked outside with sirens blaring, and we witnessed about half a dozen cops filing out of the vehicles and making the crowd of people stand back, as a black cop and others began to unlock the gates, with what seemed hired keys, that the asylum themselves had given to them for emergency purposes (the asylum staff and GCDP obviously work together because Arkham is essentially a prison).

I gripped onto dad's arm and looked at him questionably. He held a breath, reaching down and picking up his mask, as did Harley, but she put hers on her face straight away. I looked down to see dad's gun was quaking in his palm.

"Dad, where did they come from?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"I...I don't know."

"Dad…dad what are we going to do?"

Dad was panting and he looked at me, his forehead creased with worry. The core of his eyes looked into mine. I looked into my father's teary eyes with my own, which were blaring with fear.

"Run."

"What?"

"_Run_."

I glanced back at the cops, who were now approaching us and yelling instructions at each other. My heart was racing and my mind was swirling out of control once again. I looked back to dad, and then the cops, and then back to dad's sweat-ridden forehead.

"No, I'm staying here," I insisted, bravely. "I'm not leaving you."

My voice cracked, and dad heard it. He faced me, gripping my arms.

"Shaylee…get out of here. They're after me, not you." Dad's voice trembled. "Run. I'll deal with them. Save yourself."

"But dad, I have nowhere to go…what if they…?"

"Just find somewhere safe, I'll come and get you…they're not coming anywhere near us. I _promise_." He nervously glanced back down, as they approached us closer. "Run! Run, Shaylee!"

I didn't need to be told anymore. I gave my gun to dad and leaped over Ken's dead body as I started to sprint away towards the gate. I ran as fast as I could, shooting past all the cops.

I thought I was going to make it, until I was nearly out of the gate…and then one of the cops grabbed me by my hands, halting me in my tracks.

"_No_! Let me go! _Please_!"

"Young lady, you've been caught at a scene of crime," he said. "You have the right to remain silent."

He started pushing me back the way I came, shoving me past all of the other cops, back towards the middle of the grounds. I tried with all my strength to push past him, using my arm and leg power, but he kept me firm in his grasp.

"Let me go!" I pleaded.

"_NO_!"

I snapped my head back to see dad, who was storming past everyone and making his way over to me, with his gun hanging loosely in his right hand.

"Dad!" I cried.

"Let her go, right now!" Dad cried out to the cop holding me. He now had his mask on again, but I could still hear his shaking voice underneath. "This has nothing to do with her!"

"Take the girl," another cop said. "We'll deal with the rest of these maniacs."

"He's _not _a maniac!" I shouted.

"Yes, Commissioner Loeb," the cop holding me said and started pulling me back the other way again.

"_Dad_!" I called, desperately. "Dad, help me!"

"Shaylee! Shaylee, _no_!" Dad wailed. "Let her go! Please! She's just a little girl! She's my daughter, you _can't _take her away from me! She's completely innocent! Take _me_!"

"Be quiet!" Loeb commanded to dad. "Hands up!"

"_No_!" Dad screamed, pushing him away. "That's my daughter! _Shaylee_! Shaylee, hold still!"

I managed to look back at what he was doing. He was now clutching his gun forward. Harley was being pushed back into the asylum by other cops, and Larry was being handcuffed.

I felt like I was about to throw up with tears. Loeb's goons were trying to hold dad back but he skilfully dodged past all of them, knocking each of them out with a raging blow to their faces.

Then, with an almighty yell to release the madness that was cascading inside his head at that moment, I saw him point his gun in our direction.

"Dad!" I called again and again and again.

"_No_! Let her _go_!"

Then a bullet fired. And then another.

Dad aimed for the cop holding me to be shot down.

But then all I remember next was an agonising pain sear through my left shoulder and falling down onto the concrete ground where everything went black. All I heard was dad's piercing scream of sorrow, along with muffled yelling and the voices inside my head shouting and shouting and shouting…

Until I heard nothing.

I felt nothing but flashes of terrible pain in tearing into my shoulder.

Then my memory erased.

The next thing I recall was fluttering my eyes open where a tiny dim light next to me met my eyes. I was breathing frantically as I attempted to sit up and look around, but the pain in my shoulder hauled me down again. I was lying on something that wasn't comfortable in the slightest. I had a thin sheet over me. All around me was mostly white. White walls, a chalky ceiling, even the sheets on me were white. My _face _was probably white, as I felt horribly sick to stomach. The pinching pain in my shoulder wouldn't go away, but I gently touched it with my other hand to see it had several plasters on it and other some sort of things which were covering it up.

I looked on the plastic side table to see my cell phone was lying there, which I found a miracle it had managed to stay in my pocket the entire time of that madness. I carefully reached over and flipped it open.

The first thing that came up was I had received a message from Chase.

_'Hey beautiful, did you sleep well? Just wondering if you're okay. Can't wait for this weekend, got a lot of food prepared for a movie night if you fancy it? I love you! Xxx'_

Although it gently hurt on the inside, I allowed a happy tear to fall down my face.

The next one wasn't happy. There were several tears now, but they each had their own emotion. Confusion, pain, sadness, fear. I wanted to curl up in a ball and rot away.

Where was dad? Where was _I_?

It was blatant that I was in hospital, but at the time my mind was so confused I couldn't work out anything. How did I end up there? Who called an ambulance?

Dad. Where was dad? Was he in a cell? Was he free?

I glanced at the door ahead of me. He would come through there soon and take me away. Even Chase might come and rescue me.

I was all alone.

"Help," I whispered with my quivering voice, hugging my phone to my chest. "Please, someone help me. Dad? _Dad_?" I saw a camera up in the corner. "Please…someone help me. Help me…"

I rested my head on my pillow and sobbed to my heart's content.

About five minutes later, a nurse came bustling through the door, carrying a clipboard. She rushed over to my side.

"Oh thank goodness!" I didn't care that I'd never seen her before in my life, I was just so happy to see someone coming to my aid. "Help me, please…what's happened to me?"

"Calm down, Miss," she said, gently, stroking my hair like dad would. "You're in safe hands. I know this is a bit of a shock, but you're fine, trust me."

"What happened to me?" I asked, gripping onto my bedsheets.

"You were on conscious. It appears you were shot in your left shoulder."

"By who?"

"I'm not sure, Miss, but at the time it happened, we were informed by the police that you were shot at a scene of crime outside Arkham Asylum. The man who shot you was unidentified as he was wearing a mask. The cops believed he was aiming to shoot the cop that was holding you but accidentally shot you instead."

I stared at her. My breathing got louder, and my eyes were getting wetter and wetter. I let out a little whimper.

"Where's my dad?" I asked, desperately, like I was a little child. I didn't _want_ to believe it was dad who has accidentally shot me, so I didn't mention it, especially not to a stranger. "Do you know what happened to my dad?"

"Where was your father at the time?"

"Well…he was _there_…with me…outside the asylum…"

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry, Miss, but I can't be sure where your father is right now."

"Can you find out?"

"I can certainly try. What's his full name?"

"Oh, thank you so much! It's Jack Thomas Napier."

She stood up to leave the room, when another nurse, who looked much older and more experienced, entered the room.

"Is this the patient?" she asked the younger nurse.

"Yes, Sarah. She's in a lot pain, clearly in some distress. She wants to know the whereabouts of her father, so I was about to go and get some information about what happened at the scene."

"Okay then. I shall take some information from her and check her up while you do that."

I edged very slightly as she approached me with a kind smile. Although she looked friendly, I couldn't trust anyone anymore.

"Hello, young lady," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you _think_?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. You must be in a lot of pain."

"You _think_? I was shot in the shoulder, for God's sake. It was an accident before you say anything, by the way."

"Oh no, we were aware it was accidental. The police told us the bullet was not aimed at you. Now, I need to take your full name."

"Shaylee Jane Napier."

"And your age?"

"Fifteen."

"That's wonderful, and your school?"

"Uh…I don't go to school. I _used _to go to Gotham Middle School. Why's that important anyway?"

"These are just general questions, Miss Napier."

"Can I ask _you _something?"

"Of course."

"How long am I going to be here? I mean…am I going to live?"

"Oh, yes, of course, Miss Napier…"

"Please, call me Shaylee."

"Okay, Shaylee. Yes, of _course_ you're going to live. We have operated on your shoulder and have had to put stitches in it and needles in order for it to heal quicker."

"_What_?"

"You were put to sleep while we did, though, Shaylee. It was easier because you were on conscious, anyhow. It wasn't a serious gunshot injury. In fact, you were very lucky it didn't pierce through you anymore, otherwise it could have been much more serious. You had a lucky escape."

"But it still _hurts_. When will it stop hurting?"

"Oh, it will take several days to _fully_ recover..."

"_Days_? I can't stay here for days!"

"Shaylee, please, calm down…"

"No, you don't get it, I…I've been separated from my dad, I…I don't know where he is or what's happened to him, and…you see, we _can't _be separated, otherwise he'll…he'll go a little crazy. I mean _really _mad. I just need to _know_."

"We are currently finding that out for you, to see if we can get into contact with him. Do you have his cell phone number?"

"Yes, right here."

I flipped open my phone and displayed her the number, which she noted down.

"Wonderful, thank you, Shaylee."

"May I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"I…I will be allowed to leave soon, won't I? I mean, I live in Gotham Town and I don't have any money to get me home so I'll have to find my dad to take me…"

"Don't worry, we will try our best to find his location. You may have to stay overnight, but if tomorrow the wound has healed a good amount, we'll let you go, but since you're under eighteen, you must leave with parental assistance."

"Oh, great. What if we can't find him? Could my boyfriend take me out instead? He's sort of family, right?"

"How old is he?"

"Uh…eighteen."

"I'm sure that would be no problem."

"Thank you." I managed to smile at her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, you get some rest and we'll return, hopefully with some information of your father's whereabouts."

She smiled as she left me in the room alone. Not much light was peeping out of the tiny window now, so I knew it was getting dark. I noticed that I still had my pigtails in, but I wasn't wearing my beloved black leather clothes anymore. I was dressed in one of those smelly hospital cotton dresses, but I was relieved to see my own clothes piled neatly on the table next to me where my phone had been.

I gasped in horror when I realised my phone only had 23% battery left. I thought it's now or never to ring dad's cell phone to try and find out where he was myself.

I rang his cell phone and put the phone to my ear, filled with hope.

No answer.

I tried again. No answer. And again. No answer.

I started to panic.

I rang Chase.

He answered the phone within ten seconds.

"Hello?"

I beamed instantly upon hearing his voice.

"Hello? Chase?"

"Yeah, it's me, Shaylee, I'm here."

"Oh, thank goodness."

"Are you okay, sweetie? What's the matter? You seem…"

"Oh Chase…" I felt my eyes beginning to fill up.

"Shaylee? Shay, what's up? Tell me."

"Chase, I…I don't want you to panic…"

"Don't say that, it'll only make me panic _more_. What's happened?"

"Chase, I…I'm in hospital."

"_What_?"

"I'm in hospital. In Gotham City."

"Oh my god. Oh my _god_, Shaylee, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, baby, really I am. I'm better now I'm on the phone to you."

"Oh, sweetheart, what's the matter? Tell me what's happened."

"Well, uh…me and dad went out today and…it was all going fine, you know…until…something _happened_, Chase, it sounds crazy, but…we bumped into dad's friends and…something kicked off and dad got really, really crazy and I had this huge panic attack, and–"

"Oh my Lord, Shaylee…why did you have a panic attack?"

"It's what happens, Chase. Schizophrenia, all sorts of things cause it. My mind goes fucked because of my thoughts. Because dad got angry, _I _got angry and…well something was revealed and dad nearly shot this guy in the head…"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I…I'm serious."

"What was revealed?"

"I can't tell you."

"Shay…"

"I _can't_…tell you. I just can't, okay? But…the police came…I don't know who rang them and how they found us, but…they tried to take me away and…I was shot in the shoulder…"

"_What_? Oh my god! By who?!"

"I can't tell you."

"Shaylee, tell me _right now_."

"No."

"_Why not_?"

"It's better if I don't. But Chase, it _was _an accident. I didn't mean to be shot…"

"But _still_!"

"Chase, let me finish. I don't know who called for an ambulance but…I woke up and I was here. They told me they put me to sleep and did a little operation to put stitches in my shoulder and done some things that'll heal it quicker. Sure, I'll have a scar on my shoulder afterwards, but…I'm fine. It'll heal. It'll take time, but I'm going to be alright. They told me it wasn't even that serious."

"Oh thank God." We both paused for a while. "Shaylee?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're alright, but…how long you gonna be in hospital? Not long, I'm guessing?"

"Not at all. The nurse said to me a minute ago that if it's healed vastly tomorrow then I can go, but, Chase…I have to go with parental assistance. I don't know where dad is _at all_…he…he might have been arrested, and I can't…"

My voice drifted off as I found myself beginning to cry.

"Shaylee, don't cry," Chase said, soothingly. "Shh, shh…listen. You're gonna be alright. Okay? Your dad will show up. He always does, doesn't he? Have you tried his cell phone?"

"So many times. He's not answering."

"Shit. Have you told the people at the hospital?"

"Yeah, they said they're going to try and find where he is. Chase…I'm _terrified _they're going to come back telling me he's in jail. I'm so scared…"

"Hey, hey, hey…don't think like that."

"I can't help it. I'd much rather they tell me he's gone _missing_ than he's in jail."

"If they can't track him down, what you gonna do?"

"I don't know. Well, I asked them if _you _could take me out because you're practically family but I lied and said you were eighteen…"

"That's okay. Consider it done. I'll visit you tomorrow."

"You will?"

"Shaylee, I can't just leave you there in pain, I…I'm worried about you. I hate to see you like this, I can't just ignore the fact you're injured _and _been separated from your dad. I'll come visit you tomorrow and if they give you the all clear, I'll take you home with me. I'm sure my mom won't mind driving us back to the town. Until your dad shows up, you can stay at ours. Mom won't mind."

"Really?" A grateful tear rolled down my cheek.

"Baby, I can't let you suffer, no way. So, how about it, then? It's Saturday tomorrow anyway. I have no school."

"I love you so much."

"And I love _you_…so much. You're going to be alright. Yeah?"

"Yeah…"

"You're a tough nut, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna let this little incident _break _me."

"Good for you, tiger. Get some rest. And don't worry. Okay? It's all gonna be fine, you'll see."

"I hope so. I hope my head doesn't start. It's been racking so much today. I saw fire."

"What?"

"I heard screaming, you know. It was deafening."

"Okay, baby…try not to think about it, okay?"

"But I _did _hear it. It's hard to forget about it."

"I know, but…you can get through this, okay?"

"Okay."

"Well, I'll let my mom know everything. Goodnight, honey. Promise me you won't worry, okay?"

"I…I promise."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I ended the call and put the phone close to my chest. I closed my eyes and decided to rest my head after all the craziness that was corrupting my mind at the moment.

I was just nestling into my sleep, when the two nurses came back in again. I sat up sharply, making me wail in pain as my shoulder played up, but I managed to sit upright.

"Careful, Shaylee!" the older nurse Sarah said, coming over and helping me lie down again. "Take it easy. Sudden movement will make it worse. You must rest."

"Sorry." I looked at them, expectantly. "Well? Did you find anything?"

"Unfortunately not, dear," she replied. I sighed, sadly, feeling the tears coming again. I put my shaking finger to my lips. "The number you gave us we couldn't reach. He wouldn't answer his phone. We searched his name and we found a number of criminal records but they did not show any traces of his whereabouts at the moment."

"Obviously not. How will _that_ help? Didn't you phone the police and ask them?"

"We tried that, but they were too busy to answer us."

"_Too busy_? You have to be _kidding _me! What an absolute _joke_! This is a teenage girl wanting her father and they're _too busy_ to find him?!"

"I'm sorry, Shaylee, but there's not much more we can do."

"You can keep trying, can't you? Until they _can _answer."

"We'll keep trying for you, and we'll try and help you as much as we can, but if we can't get answers, we can't get answers."

"But the police were _there _when I got shot! Surely they–"

"Calm down, Shaylee," the younger nurse said, placing her hand on my arm. "We're doing everything we can, we promise you. You must rest right now and let your wound heal."

"Fine. Oh by the way, I rung my boyfriend. He said he'll come and visit me tomorrow, if that's okay? And if I'm well enough to be admitted out he said he'll take me home. Is that okay?"

"I'm sure that'll be no problem. The visiting times are 1:30 to 4:00."

"I'll text him that."

"Now, is there any more we can do for you?"

I thought long and hard, glancing around as I tried to think of something that would lighten my mood.

"Can I…have a drawing pad? And a pen?"

They looked totally surprised, but they nodded nevertheless.

"I'm sure we can find you something," the older nurse said, standing up. "There should be something in the children's area."

"That would be great, thank you."

They both headed out while I messaged Chase the visiting times. The younger nurse returned five minutes later with exactly what I asked for. I wondered where they got it from in a hospital but I was so pleased I didn't bother asking. She gave me my drawing equipment before closing the curtains and flicking on the much brighter light, which lit up the whole room.

"That should be better for you," she said, pleasantly. "Is it okay for you to draw with that shoulder?"

"Yeah, it'll be fine. I'm right-handed anyway, so it shouldn't cause too much pain for me." I scribbled a bit of the pen on a clean sheet. "Yeah, I feel nothing."

She smiled politely.

"That's good, if there's anything you need, ring the monitor next to you and we'll be here to assist you."

"Thank you," I said, almost sounding grateful for once in my life. I wasn't used to being nursed and cared for like this.

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now get some rest."

She left the room and I immediately put pen to paper. I started doodling my usual bat and skull patterns but then something much more interesting came to mind.

I started a fresh new page and at the top I wrote in big capital letters 'Jane Price the Princess.' I proceeded by drawing Jane Price with her little tiara like she always had, and I drew her stylish clothes which were the richer versions of my own. The asshole Bob Moskins was behind her, and I made him have a knife up against her neck as he leaned down and said something into her ear. Jane looked frightened, and Moskins had a vicious smirk on his lips. In italics, I wrote their dialogue underneath my picture,

_'You shall do this for me, my little princess,' Moskins purrs into the lovely Jane's ear._

_'Moskins, I shall never be this wretch you have made me out to be!' Jane declares, in her sweet voice. 'I shall never do this for you!'_

_'Oh you will, pretty face,' he snarls. 'Because you work for me now, and I own you.'_

_'You'll never own me! My father shall find you and he will kill you!'_

_'I'd like to see him try, my princess.'_

_'I'm not your princess!'_

_'But you are vaguely descended from English royalty aren't you, potty mouth? So you ARE a princess. And what's a princess without her little pot of gold? All her riches, huh?'_

_'You don't need money to be happy, Moskins! I have friends, who will come to save me!'_

_'I need money to be happy. If I want the world to belong to us, my dear, I need a little bit of cash to get us all the way. So, what's it going to be, sweet little Jane? Your throat…or my cash?'_

_He strokes the metal knife across innocent little Jane's throat, tugging on her golden hair as he laughs quietly under his breath._

I surely thought this comic was going to make millions. People love a story about this sort of thing. About a murderous power-hungry bastard using a young girl, who eventually falls for every stupid trick in the book. Like dad said, the world is turning into a dark place, so why wouldn't anyone like to read a dark comic book by a schizophrenic teenager?

Oh wait, _no one _would, because _all_ people with schizophrenia are crazy who are scum and don't have any talents.

At least I have a talent in _something_.

I fell asleep with my drawing held tightly to my chest. Even the bright lights in the room couldn't stop me from falling asleep on what was the worst day of my entire life.

I never expected Larry Torres to turn out to be like that. I always knew he was a coward and he wasn't a good friend to dad, but…why didn't dad tell me before that all Larry ever wanted was money which was ultimately broke his marriage down (arguments about money) and became his obsession he had the nerve to want to hurt my mom in order to drive dad away from her. Family wasn't important to him, and he wanted dad to think the same. Maybe if Larry had a child of his own, maybe he would understand. But right there and then, I was happy knowing that he was rotting away in a cell right now. I didn't care how long for, but I hoped it was forever. I wanted him to die in jail, and if he didn't, I _would _one day shoot him because even though Harley did it, he was the one behind it. I couldn't believe Harley, the insane obsessed freak, spoke more sense than Larry did. She sounded really intelligent, but then again, she _was _a medical student once. Harley didn't want mom dead, and that night it happened she was showing off in front of dad, which is why she sounded so murderous and awful that night.

If I only I knew what Larry was like when I first met him. What a good actor, not giving _anything _away. But he was right in some ways, dad did go straight back to him when something happened because dad knew Larry would be there. I would never have trusted him if I knew that when I first met him. He won me over with his little innocent attitude.

What an evil person. Corrupted by money. No wonder dad hates money.

I hate it too.

I slept for an awfully long time the next morning. The next _afternoon_. I was fighting to open my eyes at 1:30 in the afternoon. The lights had been turned off and the daylight was bursting through the window, which almost blinded me at first. I tried to sit up and I was so relieved that the pain in my shoulder was not as agonising as the night before. I managed to sit upright, and gently traced my shoulder, still covered up.

I sat and waited for someone to come and see me. Chase could come and visit me at any moment. I looked such a mess when I looked ahead at the mirror on the wall in front of me. My makeup was still smudged from crying all day the day before and my hair in pigtails looked so tangled it could be used for a rope. I also desperately needed to go the bathroom to sort myself and I wouldn't have minded a cigarette as well (I was trying to give up and I was doing well so far but at that moment in time I didn't give a fuck).

I pressed the monitor to call for assistance. To my surprise, a doctor came in almost straight away, a young guy who looked like he had just got a job there.

"Good afternoon," he laughed as he came in with a clipboard. "Shaylee Napier, is it?"

"That's me," I answered, yawning. "Am I okay to go today?"

"Well, we'll firstly have to check up on you to see if you are in a well enough state to be admitted out. Are you the girl with a gunshot wound in the left shoulder?"

"Yeah," I said, displaying it to him. "They operated on it last night while I was on conscious. They said they did everything they could to heal it and to ease the pain and stuff."

He came over and examined my shoulder, carefully.

"Well, I'm pleased to tell you it does look like it's healing. There's no blood from the wound, which is a good sign. How does the pain feel?"

"It's not as bad. It hurts a little bit, though. But much better. I think they gave me something to ease the pain."

"Well, that's good. Unfortunately, I'm not the one who should check up on you. Who was your nurse?"

"Uhh…I think her name was Sarah. And another girl, but I don't remember her name. Can my boyfriend visit today?"

"Certainly, just after we've checked up on you."

I was so happy to learn the check-up would take little to no time at all. Sarah and a few other nurses removed all the things from my shoulder were a hideous scar was now marked on my shoulder, assisted by several bruises that were every colour. There was no blood, although little tints of crimson were still visible around the scar, but they told me that would vanish very soon. They gave me some sort of drug that would relieve my pain even further but that didn't hurt me in the slightest. If I could take a bullet, I could take a healing drug with ease.

My phone had died, so I didn't know if Chase was on his way or not. I prayed he would come to my rescue during the visiting times. The nurses did do their best in trying to find dad's location, but still nothing was coming through. I found it perfectly ridiculous. Sarah asked me about my medical history for some reason, so I made it up. You think I'm dumb? I wasn't going to tell her that I hadn't been to a doctor since I was seven and that's when they found I had a mental illness. They'd be wanting to keep me in hospital forever to give me medication for it. I didn't want that. I could control it myself…well, I _thought _I could.

They left me to rest for a while, while I continued with creating my best-selling comic about Jane Price. I wasn't allowed to go out and smoke but I did spent an awfully long time in the bathroom.

At three o'clock Sarah peered through the door.

"Miss Napier, you have a visitor."

I sat up immediately, almost feeling nothing in my shoulder now.

"Who is it?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"I believe it's your boyfriend, quite a handsome young man, isn't he?"

"Of course he is, now can I see him?"

Sarah smiled and opened the door wider.

"This way, young man."

Like a knight in shining armour, Chase walked in, wearing the black leather jacket I had bought him only a few weeks before that and his hair perfectly in place. I did love his raven hair with red highlights in it, I knew he was going for the Goth looks himself.

"Hi, baby," I greeted, smiling the widest I'd had in a long time.

"Hey, beautiful," Chase said, kneeling beside my bed. I slowly lay down again, not taking my eyes off my prince charming. "How are you feeling? You okay?"

"I feel much better,. Look."

I showed him my shoulder with my ugly scar that made a neat line.

"Ooh…that looks nasty," Chase said. "Does it hurt?"

"Not a lot. They've given me healing stuff to ease the pain. They said I shouldn't feel anything soon. They said it was a lucky escape because the injury could have been much worse."

"I'm so glad you're okay, Shaylee."

We shared a light kiss. He gently took my hand and stroked it with his fingers, making me feel the most relaxed I had felt for weeks.

"So are you okay to go today?" he asked.

"I hope so," I answered. "I think they've done all they can, to be honest. I just have to be careful with it for a few days but once it's healed I probably won't feel a thing."

"Was the bullet still inside your shoulder when they operated?"

"Uh…I'm not sure, actually. You'll have to ask them. I wouldn't think so, I mean if it was, then it would be much more serious, wouldn't it?"

"I guess so." Chase winked at me. "You sure you're feeling better?"

"Chase I'm fine, I swear. I'm more worried about my dad, to be honest. I'm so worried about where he is."

I squeezed his hand tightly and he did the same, leaning in closer.

"He'll show up, honey," Chase said. "He will. He won't have just vanished, will he?"

"I…I don't know…I hope not…because then what will I do?"

"You'll have to stay with me, won't you?"

Chase grinned at my puzzled look.

"What do you mean?"

"I talked to mom about it, and she said that if you need to you, you can stay with us as long as you want."

I smiled gratefully.

"Oh, Chase, that's so kind of her…" I said. "But, are you _sure _she'll want me in her house, what with you studying and all that?"

"That could be a problem, couldn't it?" Chase laughed. "You might be a little bit of a distraction."

"I won't distract you from your work, I'll help you with it."

"Well, my mom said she's happy to, anyway, for as long as you need to."

I gulped and my smile faded as the thought of dad never showing up again hit my mind. It hit my _heart_ and tore it to pieces.

"Are you okay?" Chase asked, rubbing my arm.

"Chase…" I mumbled. "What if my dad never shows up?"

"He will..."

"But what if he _doesn't_? What am I going to do?"

"Baby, just don't think about that…think positive. They'll find him, alright?"

"He's probably tried to ring me up to now, but my phone's run out of battery."

"Oh, shit."

Sarah the nurse came back at that moment and joined us both. I had put my drawing pad and paper face down on the side table so she didn't see what sort of twisted things I was writing.

"How are you feeling, Shaylee?" she asked.

"Much better, thank you."

"That's good to hear. Do you feel much pain?"

"Not as much. Whatever you gave me worked, that's for sure."

"So will she be allowed to go home?" Chase asked. "I can take her right now. My mom is parked outside, we could take her home right away."

"Well, we'll have to do a blood test firstly, but I'm very certain that Shaylee could be admitted out this afternoon, as long as she's given the medication needed in order to make her shoulder heal in the quickest way possible."

"I'll look after her," Chase said. "And we'll keep searching for her father, too."

"I'm sure you will, young man."

"Could you do the blood test now and get it over with?" I asked, hopefully.

"We are getting it done as soon as we can, there are other patients we have to attend to as well that are in much serious condition."

"But if you do it now and everything's okay then I can just go, can't I?"

"I told you, Shaylee, it shall be done very soon."

"How long is 'very soon'? In a few minutes?"

'Very soon' turned out to be 45 minutes later. They let Chase stay for that whole time, though, and Chase rang his mom to tell her that we shall be an hour or so before we come out. Julia went and did some shopping while she waited.

I talked to Chase about school, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. He and Tom had had a fight because Tom and Chelsea had had an argument and Chase told him he wasn't interested. Chris and Jason had apparently gone back to hanging out with Alex and weren't even coming into school much anymore. Matty seemed to be the only one who bothered with Chase much anymore but at least he had _someone_. He told me he wasn't even scared for his exams coming up and his first one was in a month's time. Art was his only priority, which he and his mom constantly argued about, but Chase is so confident he thought he didn't need to study for his other subjects.

They wouldn't let Chase stay while I had my final check-up and blood test. He said he'd go and talk to his mom on the phone while I was being checked-up.

Thankfully, I was given the all-clear. The mildness of the pain in my wound would heal quickly enough that it wouldn't be infected in the future and they gave me something that would determine this. I was helped out of bed and given back my clothes which I got carefully changed into in the bathroom, which I spent an awful long time in again, sorting my hair and wiping off all my awful-looking makeup. I came back into the ward I was in where they were giving Chase my medication and explaining it to him. Apparently to keep easing the pain I had to take these tablets until the pain eased completely. I don't see how that would help, but never mind. There was also something about being careful when my wound met with water.

"Ah, here she is," said Sarah the nurse as I carefully sauntered in the room, my hair now flopping over my shoulders.

I popped the collar of my jacket, which was covered in dirt, but I didn't care. Chase didn't care either, as he put his arm around my waist and gently pulled me close to him. He was holding a box of tablets in his hand.

"She'll be safe with me, doctor," Chase said, kissing my head. "I'll look after her until we find her father."

"I hope you do find him," Sarah said, sounding worried. "I do hope nothing serious has happened."

"Me too," I mumbled.

"So is that all clear?" Sarah asked.

"Perfectly. Are you sure she's okay to come out of hospital now?"

"We are very certain, young man. We've seen many gunshot wounds in our time, and this is one of the mildest I've seen. She's very lucky it was only the top of her shoulder and not all the way through it."

"Could…could I have died?" I asked, quietly.

"Oh, no…I don't think so," Sarah laughed. "Anyway, everything's good now. Follow me. I'll come and check you out."

She led through a vast number of corridors and stairs to the reception desk and along the way, Chase never let go of me. I was very conscious when I walked. I was grabbing my phone in my jeans pocket, and glanced at my shoulder all the time, being so grateful that my clothes were covering up the scar on there now.

My shoulder was barely hurting. Every now and then I got a little dose of pain in my shoulder but nothing really got me screaming and howling in agony.

"Mom!" Chase called as we walked out into the car park. "Mom, over here!"

I looked up and saw Julia waving frantically back the pair of us. I lifted my arm and waved quickly before hauling it back down again to not feel the pain. Julia hugged us both when we reached the car.

"Oh, you two got me so worried!" she cried. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, mom," Chase said, calmly. "We just gotta keep Shaylee on this medication for a few days."

"Oh, Shaylee, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I was getting rather annoyed at people asking me all the time. "It wasn't even that serious."

Julia unlocked the car.

"What were you even doing at a scene of crime?" she asked.

"It wasn't really," I bluffed. "My dad just got into a fight and it was an accident."

"It wasn't your father who shot you, was it?"

"Oh, no," I lied. "I don't know who it was. But I'm fine, honestly, I am."

"Just try and rest it for now," Julia said, as she revved the engine up. "It won't do it any good if you're running around everywhere. So, son, that means no playtime when we get back to the house."

I burst out laughing.

Oh it felt so good to laugh after two days of pure hell.

"Mom!" Chase laughed. "I'm gonna look after her, aren't I? Don't worry."

"I know you will, Chase," Julia chuckled. "I'm only messing you two about."

The first thing Chase did when we arrived at his house back in the town was lend me his phone charger. Julia started making some dinner for us while we had a long conversation and kissing-session in his room. After Julia made us a gorgeous roast dinner, I pulled out my now fully-charged phone and prayed that I could finally get in touch with dad.

I went into Chase's basement to make the call, as I could have some peace and quiet down there. Chase and Julia were watching the news as I did, I prayed that nothing about dad would come up.

I dialled the number.

"Come on, come on, come on…" I

No answer.

"Fuck!"

I tried again.

"Come on, dad…"

No answer. I dialled the number again.

"Come on, pick up the _phone_."

I kept on ringing.

"Please, dad…"

The ringing stopped. My heart skipping a beat.

"Shaylee?" I heard dad say.

"Dad?"

"Oh my god! It _is _you! Shaylee…oh my _god_!"

He was actually crying. I'd never heard him like this before. He was crying uncontrollably.

"Dad!" I started crying, too, but more of relief than anything else. "Oh my god, are you okay? I'm _so _glad you picked up the phone!"

"I'm so glad you're _alive_! I thought you were dead."

"What? No, dad, I'm…" I sniffed hard. "I'm not dead, I'm very much alive. I…I'm fine…"

"_Where are you_?"

"I…I'm at Chase's house."

"Oh. Oh thank goodness for that."

"Dad, where are _you_? What's happened?"

"I…I'm not sure, sweetheart. I think I'm in an alleyway."

"Dad, you _must_ know where you are."

"I don't, uh…I know I'm outside, that's for sure."

"Are you in the City?"

"Yeah…yeah, I am."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're alright…"

"I'm not, Shay. I'm _not _alright. Not, one, bit."

He appeared to have stopped crying almost instantly. His voice now became serious, sounding so different to what I had heard before. It almost had a gruffness to it that was very intimidating, but also a more friendly touch that seemed almost pleasant. It didn't sound like dad much. It did at some moments, especially when he talked in his lower voice, but sometimes he cut it out and spoke in a much more different way. I began to wonder if this was a practical joke.

"Dad…what's…what's happened to you?" I asked, nervously.

"Nothing! Nothing, I…I'm _okay_…I just want to know if _you _are…"

"I…I'm fine."

"Lies. Shaylee, I…" His ordinary voice started to talk again. It made my heart pound. "I _shot _you. How are you even still here? I...I saw you fall down on the floor before me. I saw you die…"

"Dad, I didn't die! I'm fine! I'm talking to you right now! Dad, why…why didn't you answer your phone all day?"

"To be honest with you, Shaylee, I haven't had time to _look _at my phone recently! So you _were _taken to hospital?"

"Yeah…I was."

"Oh so they _did _come when I called 'em."

"_You _phoned for an ambulance?"

"Of course I did! I said to the cops, if they were going to arrest me then _you _had to be sent to hospital to be safe. I would never forgive myself if I didn't ask for an ambulance. So what happened to you at the hospital?"

"I had a little wound in my left shoulder from the gunshot which they treated, I have a scar on it, but–"

"_No_!"

"Dad! Dad, it's okay..."

"_I _did that to you..."

"But it wasn't even a serious wound. They treated it overnight and now I barely feel a thing. They've given Chase the medication I need and he said he'll look after me for a few days…"

I stopped because all I could hear was dad sobbing down the other end of the phone. It tore my heart in two.

"Dad, don't…don't cry, it's okay…I'm okay, I promise you!"

"And I'm happy about that. But I…I still did that to you. _I _shot you…I shot my own daughter. The only person I have _left_."

"You didn't _mean to_…dad, you were trying to protect me..."

"I know but…"

"No, listen to me. _Everything_ you do is for me, isn't it? It was all revealed yesterday. You…you were only working with Harley for me…to make sure I have food in my mouth and a roof over my head. I could tell by the way you were acting you didn't _really _want to, but you only did if for my sake. You've done so much for me, you've sacrificed everything…you went through losing mom…and now your best friend…"

"Some _friend_. I'm such an _idiot_ for not realising the truth all along! I should have guessed it was nothing to do with Harley in the first place. Larry is such a…oh Shaylee…I…I'm so sorry…"

"Dad, don't be sorry."

"_Shay_. Stop it. Oh, my love...I…I'm sorry I'm such a useless father."

"_What_? Dad, don't talk like that! You…you're the greatest dad in the entire world!"

"I wish I could say that was true. But I'm not. I'm a desperate criminal who is trying to be strong and show the world what it's like, but inside…I'm broken. I'm torn to pieces. The schizophrenia is taking over me, Shay. It's making me a monster. Everything I have is attacking me and I thought maybe…just maybe…I could control it. But I can't. I'm _weak_."

"Dad, _I'm _schizophrenic too, but does that make _me _a monster? You are _not _weak! You're the strongest person I know…you've stayed strong for me my whole life…"

Dad snivelled a little as he whimpered like a little boy. I heard him gasp for air and his breath trembled.

"Dad…I…I'm sorry for making you feel this way…I just want you to come home and we can start over."

"Oh, oh...my baby…I wish I could do that too. But I feel like there's…nothing left…worth living for…"

That other voice suddenly came back, making me start to shiver in the warm basement.

"Dad…dad why are you _talking _like that?"

"Talking like what, huh? I'm not. Uhh..._that's it_. _I _know where I am now! I'm on a _building_…yeah…"

"_What_? Dad, why are you…?"

"Ah-ah-ah…shush my little one…let daddy talk now. If you must know, I'm lying on top of a skyscraper right now. Staring…at the _beautiful _starlight. I don't feel like myself. It's, uh...it's nice and calm and quiet up here. I haven't eaten for weeks. I've not slept for days. Well, I haven't felt like good old _Jack _for _years_. My mind…it _tells_ me…I'm worrying too much...that I need to grow up…but _I_ know the _truth_. There's no time for second chances now. There's no need to start a fresh page. Think about it, honey. First, I lost my dearest, sweet mother…the only one who…did that thing...where, uhh...they care about you, you know what I mean, right? Yeah…then, I lost your mother…who for some reason I _still _can't get over because she won't _ever leave me_!" Dad paused and there was a deadly silence. I didn't dare speak. "And now," he cracked. "…I've lost you…"

I couldn't keep my mouth shut after that.

"What? No, you haven't lost me!"

"Oh but I _have_. I _hate _myself, giving you all these _terrible_, controlling things in your mind…I can't _take _it anymore…I almost killed you yesterday…"

Dad's strange voice lingered away and his normal, more sympathetic voice returned. He suddenly started crying again.

"I've nearly hit you recently. I can't allow myself to do it anymore, baby. I thought things would change…but it looks like our dark place don't wanna leave, huh? I don't _want _to cause you anymore pain…I _can't_. My friend betrayed me. The idiotic morons in the prison _dared _to put his in a cell together."

"_What_?"

"You can imagine how it went. We got separated for fighting. I must say, Shay, he put up a good fight. He smashed my face completely, but nothing _happened_. I managed to avoid him, of course. But, uh…this afternoon, I managed to escape…"

"Oh, thank God."

"Yes, thank God indeed. Harley's been chucked back in Arkham, poor dear." His menacing voice came back. "I uh…" He snickered cruelly. "I killed _a lot _of people today, Shay! Mostly women. Who looked like _you_. And I got _away _with it! I thought they were _joining _you...but...but _no_." Then he went back to his usual 'dad' voice. "Oh Shay…I don't know what to do with myself anymore…what's the point of living now? Everyone hates me…everyone's making a _joke _of me…the whole of Gotham just thinks they can make a _fool _of me…my whole life I've had to put up with it and I only put up with it for your sake."

"Dad…_I _don't hate you."

"I don't know why, after today. I nearly killed you."

"It was an accident."

"My darling…that's not the point. I thought I'd lost you."

"But you _haven't _lost me…" My voice started to get little cracks inside it. "I'm still here. You didn't kill me. Dad, think about it. This will only make me stronger, won't it? I was _always _going to get a bullet inside me at _some _point and…it won't be the _last_ time."

"Don't say that. I can never…forgive myself."

"Dad, please…just…just come home, and give me a hug, and…and everything will go back to the way it was."

"I can't…I can't hurt you anymore…no parent should hurt their child."

"_Dad_! Stop it! You _haven't_ lost me! You never will. No matter what you do, I'll always be there by your side. We have to stick together because we have stupid things in our minds. Please don't think you've lost me…"

"But baby…the police will surely take you away from me now…"

"But even _they _knew it was an accident."

"That's not the point. My criminal record is beyond insane now. Now they know you're my daughter because like an _idiot _I said it out loud, didn't I? Do you really think they'll let me look after you now? No."

"Dad, I'm not going to let that happen."

"Me neither. So I'm…I'm going to do this the hard way. Look after Chase, he's a good lad…please don't let him down…and make sure he treats you like the true angel you are…"

"Dad."

"Never let anyone get the better of you. And remember, you'll always be my little girl, no matter what. I may be a terrible, murderous wretch, but…I…"

"Daddy…"

"Shaylee…don't make this any harder. I thought I'd never hear your voice again because I thought I'd killed you…but I'm so _glad _that I've been able to hear your voice one last time. It's a good job I kept my phone with me the whole time, isn't it? I thought I'd _never_ hear your voice again…and you sound so much like your mother on the phone."

"Dad, you're not…you _can't_…no, dad…come home…come back and see me…_please_…I'll…I'll stop the pain…I'll do whatever it takes…"

"Why should you end _my_ pain? You need to end your own. The pain will never end if I'm still around you."

"It will never end inside of _me _if you fucking jump off that building!"

"Shaylee…"

"Dad, don't…don't do this…I _love _you _too much _to let you go! You won't help anything! You'll weaken me! You will! Don't let me be broken, _please_...dad…"

"It will make you stronger. Keep that smile on your face, my little one. Thank you for keeping me happy when I needed it most."

"Dad no! _No_!"

"I want you to be strong for me…because I have nothing left. I crossed the line."

"No you _didn't_! _Dad_! Do not jump off that building! Dad, _no_! _NO_!"

"I love you."

The line went dead.

"Dad? Dad?"

I was in a puddle of my own tears. The room started spinning, voices starting screaming, my heart was on full-speed.

"Dad! _Dad_! No! Please come back! Please! _No_! Don't leave me! Dad, _pick up the phone_! No…don't jump. He's gonna jump. Dad?"

I weakly removed the phone from my ear. I heard a scream swarm up my mind.

"The screaming. Dad, you're screaming..._shut up_! Dad, come back! _No_…"

I didn't realise Chase had barged through the door and was now in front of me.

"Shay! Shay!" he cried, kneeling down. "Shay, what's wrong?"

"Chase, what's going on?!" Julia yelled, rushing in the room herself. I couldn't see them because I was sobbing onto my knees, with the phone still in my hand. "Shaylee! Darling, what's wrong?!"

"Shaylee, look at me!" Chase cried, trying to lift my head. I allowed him to do this, but I just responded by bawling, loudly. "What's the matter?"

It took me a while to speak because I was so hysterical. I could still hear it.

"The screaming…" I said, in a disturbingly calm voice. "The screaming, it won't stop." Chase and Julia were speechless, gawping at me as they had no clue what to do. "It's dad…he's screaming…"

"Shaylee, calm down and tell us what's happened."

Chase tried to sound understanding, but he could _never _understand what we going through my mind at that moment.

"He…he's going to kill himself…"

"_What_?"

"He…he told me he has nothing worth living for…he thought I was dead, he…he was going to jump off a building…and he's probably screaming…the screaming…"

I put my hands to my head, not feeling any pain in my shoulder. Just in my heart.

"No, he's _not _dead. Shut up. He's _not_."

"Chase, ring the hospital again," Julia said.

"_NO_!" I bellowed. "Don't you _dare_! No, my dad is probably _dead _right now…I have _no one_…shut up! _Shut up_!"

Julia didn't send me to the hospital. In fact, all I can remember after that was lying in the spare bedroom hearing a muffled argument downstairs between Chase and his mom. I heard the word Schizophrenia. I heard the word Crazy.

My mind banged and banged all night long, making it impossible for me to sleep. I wept and screamed all night, my mind telling me to grow up.

This was it. This was the end of me. I didn't have dad to calm me down anymore. I could never be in his arms again. I could never talk to him again.

I would never see dad again.

My mind wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop it now. It made hallucinate all night, seeing visions of dad with a mask and a knife and seeing a skyscraper high above, going through Chase's ceiling. I saw fire again.

_But you love fire, _they said.

It got to early hours of the morning and I still was raving mad. I got out of bed and the first thing I did was grab a kitchen knife and stare at myself in the bathroom mirror.

"Are you happy now, dad?" I hissed in the mirror. "You've broken me now. My weakness wasn't boys at _all_. It was _you_. _You_. Because I _loved _you!" I took the knife put it close to my wrist. I scraped my skin off my wrist, allowing the searing pain to go through my entire body. It didn't hurt, it felt...relieving. I tattered my skin each time I listed something. "All I see is you…a building…a playing card…hair dye…_fire_…I don't see my _father_!" I slammed the knife by the sink before letting it soar through the bathroom. I once again cried at my own, pitiful self in the mirror. "Look at this pretty pattern, dad," I said, excitedly to his voice in my head. "Maybe I could use this on a victim. You'd be proud of that, huh? You happy I'm bleeding? What's that?" My sobbing voice suddenly decided to come back. "Oh no, you_couldn't _be happy because I got fucking _shot_ in the shoulder and you _still _moaned and cried over _that_! You over-protective _bastard_!" I sighed. "Wait, wait...no...I mean...I'm sorry, daddy. I loved you, dad. I_love you_…I'm _not _crazy…nope. Not at all. I'm just making my daddy _proud of me_…"

It was like my mind was controlling the length of my words. I was finishing words with so much emphasis.

I was losing my mind; and that's not a metaphor. I really was. I was clearly depressed as it was, but now I couldn't control myself.

Chase then came walking into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. He gasped in horror when he saw the knife and blood dripping from my wrists onto the tile floor. I was glaring at myself and him in the reflection, almost with a sort of smirk on my face.

"Shaylee, what are you _doing_?" he shouted.

"I'm just…making myself feel better, my love," I breathed in haunting voice.

"Shaylee, what's wrong with you? Put that thing away now!"

"Don't be mad, darling. Please. It won't help."

Chase then suddenly clutched on my wrists, obviously not thinking, and yanked me around to face him. I yelped in pain when he grabbed my bleeding wrists and I instantly pulled away sharply, wailing in pain until it felt the bathroom walls could be caving in.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Chase said, trying to touch my arms.

"_No_!" I screamed. "You…you stay away from me!"

I slapped Chase across the face and he fell to the ground, touching his red face where I'd left my mark. I'd hit him so hard he almost had a mark of my hand printed on his face. I then kicked him in the stomach while he was on the floor, and kicked him again. I grunted loudly before stepping over him and falling onto my knees in the hallway. Chase struggled to his feet and moaned loudly before he managed to join me.

This was it. The monster had taken control of me now. There was no escape.

Thankfully, Julia had already gone out to work when I attacked Chase so she didn't witness it. Unbelievably, Chase seemed to completely shake it off and actually comforted me about it afterwards. I found that completely amazing, but of course I went along with it. He obviously knew I was going through the biggest and most traumatising breakdown of my life, and so he thought it was best to help me and not yell at me. He didn't say that was the case, but I knew that's what his thoughts were by looking in his eyes.

Chase attempted to calm me down, taking me into the living room and stroking my hair as he flipped on the news. I watched it intently, although secretly I felt sick inside because I knew there was going to be a story of a man committing suicide and the police were on the tracks for his young, innocent daughter, Shaylee Napier.

I cuddled up to Chase, taking deep breaths, as I stroked my wrists, watching the news anchor explain the first story.

"Last night Gotham City Police Department were called to 52nd Street in Gotham City as they were informed by a pedestrian of an attempted suicide. They arrived to find a body of a man who was reported to have jumped off the third floor of a skyscraper, onto the ground where he had placed explosives and sharp, dangerous weaponry at the bottom to purposely fall upon. However, the police found the body was unharmed and the man was in fact alive, as the explosives did not go off as the man fell, but the reasons why they didn't is unconfirmed. The man was unidentified, as he put on a mask he was carrying over his face as the police approached him. The man had broken several bones, including one in his neck and could not walk, but the police called an ambulance and he was taken to Gotham General Hospital on a stretcher, despite him trying to attack the cops. The victim is currently unidentified, as he refused to reveal his identity to police, keeping on his mask, as he claimed severe damage was caused to his face during the suicide attempt and is embarrassed to reveal himself. Although not fully confirmed, Lieutenant Matthew Roach reported that this may have been caused by the sharp weaponry that was placed with the explosives. The explosives were taken away by the police and dismantled. It has also been suggested this man may be the same criminal that the police discovered on Friday afternoon outside Arkham Asylum, where he was involved in the attempted escape of Harleen Quinzel, as the mask appeared to be very similar to the one this victim is refusing to take off. The cops report that the man is now seeking medication and operation in hospital for his wounds, but refuses to reveal his identity and that operation be made to his damaged face."

Chase squeezed me tightly.

"Oh, Shaylee, do you know what this means?" he asked, smiling kindly at me.

I nodded, slowly, my face managing to beam brightly.

"He…he's alive…" I whispered. A tear of happiness raced down my cheek. "He's _alive_!"

"Presuming of course, that _is _your dad…"

"Of course it is."

"How do you know?"

"Because…I _told _you, Chase, he phoned me _from _that building. He told me he was going to jump off. I know he has a mask, too, but…I don't know where the explosives came from or anything."

We both looked back at TV, where this Matthew Roach was now being interviewed outside the hospital.

"If anyone should know the identity of the victim, then please, get in contact," he said to the camera. "He is clearly in a lot of pain and a lot of distress, and because he refuses to reveal his identity, we are struggling to find any of his medical history that may help us find out his mental problems we are concerned he may be suffering from…"

"No!" I suddenly gasped, grabbing Chase's arm.

"What?"

"They…they _can't_ know his medical history!"

"Why not?" Chase asked, baffled.

"Because…they just _can't_…"

"Well, all they'll do is try to help him, Shaylee."

"He doesn't _need _help! He's not crazy. _I'm _not crazy."

"Alright, Shay, calm down…"

"No! I mean…they can't…"

"But Shay, you must be happy, right?"

"Y-Yeah…I…" I sighed with relief, letting another tear fall. "I'm _so _happy. Oh my god, I can't _believe _it…" I leaped onto Chase and we hugged, tightly. I managed to grin as I beamed into Chase's chest. "I'm so happy…oh my _god_…I thought I'd lost him forever…and he's still out there…I _have _to make sure he's okay. Oh Chase, I'm _so _relieved…"

My happiness wouldn't last. Of course. I tried for the next two days to get into contact with dad _and_ the hospital, but dad's phone eventually became unavailable and the hospital foolishly wouldn't let me visit because apparently dad didn't want to see _anyone_. Not even me.

I was starting to believe it wasn't dad after all.

That thought was proven wrong when it was reported the next day that he had had a severe mental breakdown in hospital, where he escaped and accidentally revealed his face and now they could confirm it was in fact Jack Napier.

I tried to phone him again. His phone couldn't be reached.

Chase and I searched all around the City for him, including going to the hospital, Arkham, the police station, _everywhere_. We pissed Julia off because Chase didn't go to school while he helped me but Chase argued that this was so much more important. Which it was.

I loved Chase…a lot.

I kept watching the news updates religiously. They later confirmed Jack Napier was missing, nowhere to be found and they were searching for him. They would _never _find him. They didn't find him five years before when we were hiding away in Joey's Tavern. What makes them think they could find him _this _time?

As you can guess, I went through a week of traumatising breakdowns. Not just schizophrenic ones where I saw things that weren't there and did things I didn't mean to do (like hitting Chase several time when I couldn't control my anger), but also just _ordinary_ nervous breakdowns. You know, like anxiety attacks.

I became rigorously depressed.

I didn't eat, sleep or smile for a whole entire week. I couldn't even concentrate on _The Adventures of Jane the Slave_. Separation from dad was something I was not used to. I shouted and yelled at Chase and Julia, but Julia couldn't kick me out because I had nowhere to go. And I mean, _nowhere_. I'd be on the streets. Chase still had to study and go to school while all this was happening.

I phoned my friends to try and get help to search for my dad. And guess what? All of them told me I was crazy and that my dad would never show up again. Jason even said that he was more than likely dead. They were just as worse as everyone else! So I disowned all of their sorry asses. Even Chase started telling me to give up searching and believing I'd find him. I hit him when he argued with me. I didn't _mean _to attack him, it just sort of happened. The monster took my hands and made me be violent to my boyfriend who was the _only _person who actually gave a fuck about me. Even Julia didn't like me anymore, but I didn't care.

I pleaded people on the street for help. Very few offered to help me. They called me crazy and said I'm a fool for believing he's still alive and that he'll show up. He _was _alive, no one had confirmed he was dead! Dad wouldn't do that, he wouldn't just _leave _me alone. Dad would want me to be brave and strong and continue my search to find him. He wouldn't care that I attacked a few people that refused to help me and threatening people with a knife every day (I even held a knife up to Chase but that time I realised what I was doing and instantly apologised).

I wasn't acting this way because I was crazy. Oh no, this was because I was determined to find my father…who _was _alive. I just knew it. In my heart.

My wrists became redder and dripped red onto the floor more every day. It got to the point where my hands were merely just scars drawn on instead of flesh itself.

I'm _not _crazy.

Two weeks went by, and it became June. I still had no luck. I had no _help_. I was still living at Chase's, who started taking his exams. Julia frequently argued with me and told me I was stressing her son out because I was constantly dragging him around the City trying to search for my dad, who _was _alive. She nagged me to go and see a doctor because by now she knew I was a schizoid (Chase told her in a heated argument) and it was blatantly becoming worse now I was suffering from depression.

I cried every single day and every single night. I could hear dad still talking…screaming…that last 'I love you, Shaylee Jane' still lingering in my brain. It wouldn't leave. I missed his hugs, I missed his laugh, his comforting smile, our little outings, his little jokes, I even missed him ranting on about how useless Gotham was. I was beginning to see it was all true. The majority of the people in Gotham were heartless people who judged everyone and everything. I saw some of them being interviewed on the news about my dad's disappearance, saying things like, 'I really hope he gets help'. What?! You didn't _know _him! You didn't know what was going on in his mind!

They don't understand.

A month went by and I lost two and half stone. Of course. I barely touched a crumb for a month. _Nothing _seemed to cheer me up, even Chase. He did try his best though, trying his best in the bedroom and out of it, despite this shit and the stress I was putting him through. I never attacked him in front of his mom, though. Not _ever_. In fact, I barely _attacked _him, only when I was _really _stressed out. When he argued with me and was trying to tell me I was wrong. The rest of the time, Chase was his usual, helpful, charming self who treated me like a princess and tried _so hard _to keep me happy. I hated myself for hitting him, but that wasn't _my _fault.

I can't tell you what it's like to lose a parent. If you have them, even _one_, you're so lucky. Treasure them forever. They say they're still with you even when they leave the world. That's true. Dad never left me. I was practically _becoming _him. The violence? Check. The crime? Check. Ish. I wasn't a _criminal_, but I did keep doing things to buy my time (I never, ever got caught, either). The breakdowns? Double check.

But wait, dad's not _dead_. I didn't _lose _him. What am I talking about?

It came up on the news on the 8th July that they were still unsuccessful in finding Jack Thomas Napier (not that anyone in Gotham really cared anymore apart from me, the only person who _ever _cared about him). James Gordon said, "We can only presume he's dead. From suicide, we're not sure, but due to his mysterious disappearance, we can only presume that Jack Napier is dead. My thoughts are with his family."

Oh, how thoughtful of you, lieutenant.

But no. He's _not_ dead. I felt it in every inch of me. I was probably the only one who believed it in the whole of Gotham, but my mind kept telling me he's alive. Sometimes, my mind is absolutely correct. He may have _wanted_ to die, but he wouldn't do it again. He'd have second thoughts. Because he loves _me_. And he would want to see me again.

I just knew it, and one day, he _would_ return.

* * *

**Yes, I made Larry the bad guy. I didn't want Harley to be the villain because I love her too much, so yeah XD Shall I kill Larry off? Hmmm...**


	14. Love Makes You Crazy

_**NOTE: Includes strong violence, including domestic violence, threat, depression, mental distress and strong language.**_

* * *

**Chapter 13 - Love Makes You Crazy**

_Jane Price was a most unusual teenage girl in many ways. When you grow up in the slums of Gotham City, no one would take a second glance at you, offer you help of any sort. Even if you were descended from royalty. _

_Jane's English mother, Dinah Price (nee Button), had been a very distant relative of royalty, meaning that a tiny drop of royal blood was present in Jane's veins. Her father, Thomas Price, was a caring American man who was a police officer, who did everything for his Jane. Even when she was a frigid sixteen year old, her father would bathe her in a bubble-flooded tub and take his little princess out on walks in the parks and picturesque forests, just like they did when Jane's sweet mother was alive. _

_However, despite Jane's happiness, her mother's memory was plaguing her mind. She had inherited her wonderful pale complexion and golden locks that looked like they could belong in a fairy tale. Jane was also gorgeously slender like Dinah, that it was almost insulting to the girls she went to school with._

_She didn't want to be reminded of her mother anymore. She remembered the day she attacked her young eight-year-old daughter with a giant bottle filled with sickly looking pale liquid, which little Jane was unaware had the most evil addicting substance inside. Therefore, one day she placed herself in her bathroom and chopped off her golden locks with a knife, styling her thick hair in a new inelegant way. Her new short hairstyle suited her, she thought, but her mother's golden hair with a tint of curl STILL looked too much like her. _

_She disobeyed her father when she strolled into the scary big city and bought some red hair dye…_

"Shaylee, what are you doing in here?"

Chase had peered his head through the door of the basement, with his hands rustling inside his jean pockets. I gave him an impatient glare.

"Just having time to myself," I replied.

"Aren't you freezing down here?" Chase asked, coming into the room.

"No, I'm fine," I answered, sharply.

Chase kneeled down beside the chair I was sitting on, and I quickly put my drawing pad closely to my chest, hidden away from Chase's view. I looked at him like I was a little kid protecting a toy from a stranger.

"What's the matter?" Chase said, gently. "What's that you've got there?"

"It's nothing."

"Are you just drawing?"

"Yes." I lied so he would just drop the subject.

"Ah, okay. How you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, really I am, honey…I just…I just need some time to myself."

I was refusing to look at him directly, but he didn't seem to mind. He just nodded and gently touched my shoulder, but as long as he didn't have a little peak at my story, I didn't flinch away. I liked having comfort now and then.

"Okay, well…mom's just going to make us some dinner in a minute," Chase said. "Just so you know."

"I'm not hungry."

"Shaylee, you have to eat _something_, you haven't eaten in _days_."

"I have actually," I pointed out. "We had a pizza Tuesday, remember?"

"But you only ate one slice."

"I still ate _something_."

"Please, Shay…just have something. Anything. Just for me?"

I sighed and managed to finally look into his verdant eyes. He smiled kindly at me, making my heart beat faster. I felt a tear coming on but I managed to smile back a little anyway.

"Okay, I promise," I whispered.

Chase leaned in and we shared a delicate kiss on the lips.

"I'll come and get you when it's ready, sweetheart," Chase said, gently, getting up to his feet.

I watched him walk out of the room with his head down and his hand grabbing the back of the neck. Although I couldn't see his face, I knew right at that moment he felt totally lost. I could read his mind. My depression was clearly rubbing off on him.

"Chase?" I called, quietly, just before he left the room.

"Yeah?" he said, turning around.

"I…I love you, you know."

"I love you too."

Chase winked at me before he left the room and shut the door softly behind him.

I did love him. I loved him _so_ much.

I didn't understand why he still loved me, though. I wondered why he hadn't dumped my horrid ass by now. I'd put him through _so much_. By that time, he had completed all his exams, as it was now near the end of July. He'd finished his school year, but had to go through that annoying wait to discover his results to see if he'd made it into senior year. He told me he thought he'd done well, but I secretly knew deep down he'd thought he'd done awfully.

It was all my fault. I'd put too much strain on his life because when I couldn't control myself I hit him, sometimes more than once in an argument. You must understand, I never _wanted _to be violent towards him, or threaten him (not just verbally but with knives too) but my mind makes me do things I don't want to do. But honestly, in the heat of the moment, when it happens, when I'm being violent or threatening defenceless Chase, for one brief moment I feel like I have the upper hand, like I'm strong and no one could ever break me. I sort of feel powerful, and I'll be honest, I love that feeling. That's the feeling dad always wanted me to have, isn't it? My mind was making me believe I was doing the right thing, but after it happened, I would go and sob my heart out because I felt like the worst person on earth. Without dad, it took me such a long time to calm myself down.

I was literally becoming my father. I wasn't sure whether I should've been proud of that fact, but in some ways, I did, because dad always wanted me to be strong and defend myself, but…he also said he wanted me to "look after Chase". So in other ways, I was failing him.

It was very strange. My mind was all over the place and I couldn't get it back to normal.

As you can see, the only thing that kept me occupied and my mind somewhat normal was creating _The Adventures of Jane the Slave_. Not just as a comic book, but now I was starting to create a series a little stories. Yes, the similarities between myself and Jane are intentional, I purposely made her more like me, except she was completely normal in the head and even a little bit of a well-behaved teacher's pet. If she was completely like me, then that would be boring to write, so I made her a little different, even adding a little bit of Kayley Lyons's cowardice but Chelsea Archer's outgoingness. Only when she turns sixteen she becomes a little rebellious and that's when she's kidnapped by Moskins. Her backstory is similar to mine also, but I made her mother a bit more likeable than my own.

I was starting to get absorbed in this character. I was creating her world and her personality into the girl I _wanted _to be. Jane was a beautiful girl who had everything, lost it all but would fight to get it back, even if she had to do some deeds for Moskins in order to gain her freedom.

I'd give anything to have my old life back now, and I was going to fight for it, even if I had to go to extreme lengths to get it. I'm not a weak, feeble little girl remember?

I continued writing until my eyes ached:

_Jane admired the fire within herself as she caressed her new crimson hair in her father's mirror. Her blue eyes were like pearls in the sea against her new blazing hair, which she had stylised so it dropped just down to her little shoulders. Noticing there was a just a tinge of her natural blonde roots, Jane ventured to buy a contrasting new colour to fill in the roots. She dipped the ends of her new hair in the thickest black hair dye, while also covering up the roots. _

_Her father used to joke that she was a "royal pain in the backside", but he hardly ever told his obedient daughter off for disobeying him, because Jane never dared to do such a thing._

_That's why Jane cried her eyeliner to the floor when her father disapproved of his little girl transforming herself. He even didn't approve of Jane's explanation._

_'I don't want to be reminded of mother, anymore, papa,' she sobbed. 'I can't stand the fact I look like her, so I wanted to change my appearance to look more like a different person.'_

_'That is disgusting, Jane!' Thomas yelled at his daughter. 'Your mother was a wonderful person. She was beautiful, like you.'_

_'Not when she tried to attack me as a child!'_

_Thomas immediately changed the subject. 'Where did you get the hair dye from anyway?' he demanded. 'Was it that scumbag James you're fond of?'_

_'No, father!' she protested. 'I do not even care for him. I went and got it myself from the City!'_

_'You know you're not allowed to venture into the City without my permission,' he snapped. _

_'Papa, I am sixteen years old, I can do things for myself now!'_

_'I know, darling, but…I'm scared of you growing up.' Jane could see the water escaping from her father's eyes. 'You're my little girl, I don't want to see you grow up and change into a woman…'_

_'We knew this day would always have to come. I am my own person, I cannot always do what you want. I thought you'd be proud of me!'_

_'I am most proud of you…_

That's when a little drop of water splashed onto the paper. I chucked it to the side, along with my pen. I buried my face into my hands, desperate to try and stop the tears from coming.

This was happening an awful lot, I just broke down into tears at any given moment. Writing a conversation of a fictional father and daughter just reminded me of myself and dad, and it made a dagger stab through my heart.

Depression sucks.

_Stop crying_.

I frantically shook my head, trying to fizz out the voice in my head.

_Daddy doesn't want you to cry._

I gasped. "He _doesn't_?" I noticed it had said 'doesn't' instead of 'didn't'. "I…I _know _he doesn't…wherever he is," I whispered. "Just…just…just shut up. Please." Surprisingly, that one quiet voice almost faded away instantly. "Come on, Shay, calm down," I said, rubbing my tears away. "Come on, Shay, come on…" I exhaled heavily.

I just sat there and looked at nothing for a while. I was still whimpering a little, but I didn't feel anything at that moment. Nothing apart from sadness.

Then there was a little knock at the door, but I didn't look to see who it was. I knew it'd be Chase coming to collect me.

"Shay?" he said, quietly.

"Dinner ready?" I said, emotionless.

"Yes, honey," Chase said. Then he paused as I didn't budge from my seat. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course," I bluffed.

"Have you been crying?"

"Chase, I'm _fine_." I slowly rose from the chair and made my way over to him. "What are we having?"

"Mom's made us some pasta," Chase said, brightly, trying to lighten my mood.

"Oh," I replied, blankly. "Nice."

I followed Chase out of the door and he started to make his way up the stairs, but I just stood there, unable to do anything. I felt so weak and pathetic, so I decided to just remain that way.

Chase stopped in his tracks and was soon by my side again. Without saying a word, he pulled me into a hug and I locked myself around his waist again. He began to stroke my hair and give my head little light kisses. I couldn't help but bawl quietly onto him again.

"Shhh-hh-hh," Chase quietened me, gently. "I'm here."

I sniffed hard. "Oh Chase, what's wrong with me?" I sobbed.

"Hey, hey…come on…_nothing's _wrong with you," Chase said, shushing me some more.

"I feel so lost," I wept. "Dad doesn't want me to be weak, I'm _failing _him, Chase."

"Shaylee, you are _not_," Chase said, pulling me closer. "You're staying so strong. He'd be so proud of you."

"You mean he _is _proud of me. He's not _dead_. He's still here."

I heard Chase gulp solidly. "You're gonna be alright, Shay. I'm here, aren't I? To help you."

"But I'm not exactly helping _you_."

"What did I promise your dad a few months ago? I said to him I'd protect you and fight for you because I love you. Any other guy would have backed away by now, but I'm here for you because I know how shit your life is at the moment."

I couldn't help but grin for the first time that day. I gratefully squeezed him tightly.

"Thank you," I squeaked.

"Hey, it's okay," Chase chuckled.

I looked up at him, still grinning widely and leaped around his neck, kissing him passionately on the lips. Although I knew he was taken aback at first, he then complied, kissing me back. We weren't gentle this time. We kissed roughly until Chase pulled me up close to him and his hand cheekily started sliding up my top to wear my bra was. Then he backed up against the wall and my hands started wandering down to his crotch. I could feel his lips smiling up against mine. I was just starting to get that amazing rush of love through me, until…

"Chase James Delancey!"

Julia was now looking down on us, halting herself on the stairs, looking at us in almost disgust. Chase pulled away from me, but I didn't take my eyes off Chase. I didn't care Julia had caught us, anyway, why would she mind? She knew we were together, we were allowed, right?

"Oh, hi, mom," Chase chuckled.

"Come on, you two, your food's getting _cold_," Julia said, unamused.

"We're coming," Chase replied, impatiently. Julia marched up the stairs again, and as soon as she was out of sight, Chase cracked up into sniggers, as I did the same. "Sorry about that," he chuckled.

"Oh don't worry, it doesn't bother _me_," I laughed.

Chase took my hand and led me to his gorgeous glass-styled kitchen.

I was never used to sitting round a table and eating like a family, so as you can imagine this was always an awkward situation for me. Particularly this time, Chase wouldn't stop giggling under his breath, but Julia was glaring at me the whole time, like my existence in her house was insulting.

I had only eaten a quarter of my meal when I weakly dropped my fork onto the plate.

"I can't eat anymore," I said to Julia, trying to smile.

"Is that all you're going to have?" she asked.

"Yes, honestly, I…I can't eat."

Julia sighed in obvious annoyance.

"Alright," she said. "Are you _sure_?"

"Mom, just leave her," Chase cut in. "If she's had enough, she's had enough."

"Well, why don't _you_ eat it then, son?" she said, grabbing my plate and shoving it next to Chase's. Chase gave her a look to drop the subject, which Julia did and reluctantly continued to nibble on her spaghetti. I leaned on my hand on my chin while I waited for Chase in several moments of awkwardness. Julia then finally managed to speak up, breaking the silence like a broken record. "Did you tell Shaylee about Matty's party, Chase?" she questioned.

Chase perked his head up, excitedly.

"Oooh, no!" he said, wheeling his head round to face me. "Matty's invited us both to a party this weekend," he explained. "To celebrate finishing the school year. So you wanna come?"

I stared at Chase.

"Why am _I _invited?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Uh…because you're Matty's friend," Chase said.

"Yeah, some friend he is," I scoffed.

"Shaylee!" Julia exclaimed.

"What? I rang him a few weeks ago to help me find my dad because I thought he was my _friend _and would help me but instead he calls me a crazy bitch for believing he's still alive! Don't know why he thinks I'm going to speak to _him _again."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it like that, Shay," Chase said.

"I don't care!" I said, hoarsely. "He still _said _it." Julia and Chase glanced at each other, with Julia rolling her eyes. That's when I lost it completely. "What's that look for, Julia?" I asked, viciously.

"What look?" she said.

"You gave me a dirty look!"

"Shaylee, calm down. Look, you still don't honestly believe that–"

"Mom, stop it," Chase interrupted, through gritted teeth.

"Shut up!" I yelled. "_You_ don't know what I'm going through!"

"I know very well, actually," Julia stated, calmly. "I know how much of a hard time you're going through."

"Well don't wind me up about it then," I snapped.

"I think, young lady, you should have more respect for someone who's letting you live under their own roof!"

I laughed, sarcastically. "Oh, Julia, you don't understand _how _grateful I am. Just…please…don't…don't wind me up about my dad. Honestly. I don't want to get angry in front of you. You won't like it."

"Okay, I apologise."

"Thank you!"

I turned my face away from them both and we all remained silent until Chase's cutlery clattered onto his plate. He cleared his throat for my attention and that's when I looked at him.

"So…I take it you don't wanna come then?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "I'm not going. Even if he was still my friend, I probably wouldn't go. I'm just…I'm sorry, Chase, but…I don't feel like it."

"Okay then, baby."

Chase was smart enough to know to just drop the subject there and then. Once he'd finished, we both immediately headed for his bedroom. I was ready to have a rant and start crying hysterically again, but Chase is such a genius he managed to lay me down and give me a soothing cuddle.

It all escalated quickly when we started kissing.

For the first time in many weeks, I enjoyed the sex. Why? Because Chase was happy and relieving himself for once, the other times we did it he'd turned timid or wasn't into it because of his overwhelming stress. I also knew for a fact he was trying to cheer me up in my depression, because all the way through he was using silly voices and making funny faces at me, like I was a little kid. It was really wonderful.

That night, just before I was about to sleep, I crept downstairs to the bathroom in my bat-patterned pyjamas (I'd gone back to mine and dad's flat to collect all my clothes and belongings a few weeks before) to wash myself and get ready, but as soon as I was walking down the stairs, I heard Julia talking loudly in the kitchen, which was right next to the bathroom. Chase was in there, too, as he had gone to put some glasses away before we went to bed (Julia was allowing us to share a bed instead of me sleeping in the freezing cold spare bedroom). Luckily for me, the kitchen door was shut and they couldn't hear me or see me tiptoeing down the stairs.

"You can't be serious Chase," Julia was saying. "Shaylee is _not_ moving in with you and Bradley. I just can't allow that."

My eyes widened as I halted on the stairs. I found my breath was beginning to race so suddenly.

"Mom, where is she gonna _go_?" Chase answered back. "She has no one to take her in. Her mom died five years ago, her grandparents are all dead and her now her dad's gone missing…"

"Chase, you're seriously not going to believe what she's saying, are you?" Julia said. "You can't stand there and tell me that you still believe he's alive. Everyone knows her father is _dead_, the police even confirmed it on the news!"

"They didn't confirm it, they just _presumed_ that's what's happened because he's gone missing. That doesn't mean he's dead, mom."

By now, I was standing outside the kitchen door, very still. I was listening very closely, but had no expression. I took in everything that they were saying, as I knew this could be very important for the future.

"Oh, Chase, honestly," Julia scoffed. "If he cared about his daughter he would have come back to get her by now, wouldn't he?"

"Mom, he was in hospital and they even said he'd had a mental attack, so–"

"Maybe _that's _what killed him then."

"Don't say that!" Chase shouted. "Mom, Shay's going through depression and you nagging her all the time isn't going to help!"

"Chase, I know you're defending her because she's your girlfriend and you love her but–"

"It's not _just _because she's my girlfriend! Mom, you don't understand…"

"And you think _you_ understand her?"

"More than _you_ do, mom."

"Don't get all cheeky with me, young man. That girl used to be lovely but she's changed, she's distracted you from all your school work."

"You _know _that's not true, and anyway, it was _your _idea to let her live here!"

"Because I felt sorry for her, Chase, she was shot in the arm, for goodness sake! She _was _at a scene of crime, which doesn't look good, does it? That's when I thought her father would come back and get her, _I _didn't know he was going to try and commit suicide, did I?" There was a sudden short silence. "Since you've been with her, you've changed, you've become lazier, you've started smoking cannabis…."

My heart skipped a beat before I heard it slowly ripping into two over that confirmation.

"Don't blame Shaylee for that," Chase answered back. "That was _my _decision! She has _nothing_ to do with that."

"Let me finish!" Julia yelled. "Of course she's influenced that, Chase. Now she can't even continue her _own _education, which doesn't look great! And now you've come asking me if it's okay if Shaylee can move in with you when you move in with Bradley in January? Don't be so ridiculous, Chase! She _can't_."

"But _why_? Why not, mom?!"

"Chase, you _know _why!"

"Not really."

I heard Julia sigh heavily. "Chase…she's schizophrenic," she said.

"Yeah? And?" Chase questioned.

"Don't answer me back like that, young man!" Julia barked. "Do I really have to explain this to you, Chase? If I knew she was schizophrenic when you first got with her I would have told you not to get yourself involved with her."

"What?! Mom, you–"

"Let me finish, please. I know that you absolutely adore her, son, and I understand that, but do you honestly think you can look after her and nurse her through something like that? You're not a doctor. It's not just a little problem, it's very serious! And it's clear to me, Chase that it's getting _extremely _serious, and now she's depressed it'll make it even worse!"

"What's that got to do with moving into a flat, mom?"

"My point is, that if you move in together, you'll have to look after her and care for her _all the _time…and when she has a mental illness like that, it'll be so difficult for you. I know how much you want to help her, but I don't want Bradley to have to go through taking care of her as well. That's not their responsibility…"

"Mom, they won't _need _to!" Chase retorted. "They won't need to take care of her, because she'll have me! She'll be fine, _I'll_ keep her under control…"

"You think it's going to be that easy?"

"Obviously not, but I'm prepared to help her."

"All I'm saying is, Chase…it could be dangerous…"

"What?!"

"Do you know what happens if schizophrenia gets extreme?"

"Mom, if I look after her and keep her happy it won't _need _to get extreme!"

"Chase, darling, I understand you're trying to help her, but what she needs is proper medication, which for some reason she won't take…I just don't want her putting any more stress on you, and Bradley and your aunt and uncle shouldn't have to go through that as well! Bradley's nineteen, Chase, he has a _job _to focus on and he can't be helping you take care of your mentally ill girlfriend, can he?"

"He won't _have _to–"

"Shaylee is clearly going through some traumatising things, and it'll eventually get out of hand. Believe you me."

"Do you _really_ think Shaylee's going to lose her mind?"

"Maybe she will, and then what will you do, huh?" She paused for a slight moment. I could hear her voice was now starting to get shaky. "Chase, I'm only saying this because I love you…your my son…I…I don't want you to get hurt, I don't want you having to go through looking after a young girl who's clearly turning mad…"

"No she's not, mom!"

"Okay, maybe she's not, but what if she does? I…I just don't want…"

"Mom…it's okay…I know what I'm doing."

"I still can't put you through it. She needs help, _proper _help. Girls with a mental disorder don't turn out to be the best kind of women, you know!"

My mouth dropped open.

"There's nothing wrong with Shaylee," Chase sighed. "Mom, just…just _trust _me, okay? She'll be fine, if she moves in with me and we have a happy life together and she's relaxed, she'll be alright. I promised her dad a few months ago I'd protect her and I'd try to help her with the breakdowns she has. All I'm doing is protecting her, and keeping my promise, because I love her…" I managed to finally crack a small smile. "Mom? Mom, I love her so much, I just can't…I can't let her go because she has a mental disorder, it's…it's not her fault. I…I'll speak to Bradley about it and I'm sure he'll be cool with it. He even said we don't have to move in _with _him…just in the flat above him. He said aunt Hannah would happily cash in to get the flat for us both…"

"I'm sure she fucking would, as well."

"Please, mom, just….I'm gonna be okay."

There was an intense pause, but my face was still pretty inexpressive.

"Okay…okay," Julia finally said. "But if I hear _anything _about you getting hurt because of her, or Bradley _or _your aunt and uncle are getting hurt or threatened or _anything_ by her…and if I hear that she's not getting the proper help, then I _won't _hold back anymore, Chase."

"So…so you're saying it's okay?"

"Chase, I can't _force _you to do something you don't wanna do. All I'm trying to do is make sure you're safe."

"You don't need to worry about me, mom. What do you think's gonna happen to me? You think I'm gonna change because of Shaylee? I'm sorry mom, but I'm not leaving her because _you _don't want me to grow up. That's what this is all about really, isn't it?"

"No, Chase."

"Yes it is. Mom…this is actually gonna help me be more responsible, it'll help me _grow up_. I'm not gonna turn out to be irresponsible like, dad, _no way_. I'm _sixteen_, mom…I'm growing up. You need to accept that."

"Chase…listen to me. I know exactly where you're coming from and I know all you want to do is look after her." She sighed. "Look, it's okay for Shaylee to go with you…"

"Really?"

"Listen! _But_…if I hear anything from Bradley that she's been fucking you around and causing trouble my nephew then–"

"Mom, you keep forgetting, she can't _help _what she does sometimes. The schizophrenia _does _that, it makes her have false beliefs and see and hear things that aren't there that make her do things she doesn't wanna do! She's always had anger issues, mom, she can't help it. Don't stand there and tell me she _wants _to act in the way she does, because that's not the case."

"That's why you have to promise me you'll get her proper help, no matter what."

"Mom…"

"Promise me, son. Please…that's all I'm asking you to do."

There was another silence as I faintly heard Chase shuffling his feet around the kitchen floor.

"Alright, alright, I promise," he finally said.

I imagined at that moment they shared a hug as Julia's voice became muffled.

"You know all I'm trying to do is make sure you're safe, don't you?" she asked.

"Of course, mom, and I understand that," Chase replied. I started walking backwards, away from the door, feeling my heart pick up its speed. "I love you mom," I heard Chase say.

That's when I dashed myself into the bathroom, quickly locking myself in.

I'd heard enough. I also didn't want to hear 'I love you' anymore, that phrase was starting to make me feel sick.

I clutched onto Julia's hairbrush by the sink and started yanking my hair in frustration. I still felt nothing inside, but trying to make out everything I'd just heard made my anger and confusion start fizzing inside me.

"No, Julia, I'm _not _dangerous to your son," I muttered to myself, looking into the mirror. My mind continued to make me believe I wasn't crazy, because I _wasn't_. "And I'm _not _losing my mind, I'm _not_. I'm perfectly fine. And I _don't _need help either. What do you think I am, some sort of scumbag who does bad things for my own pleasure? No. _No_. I'm a good person, I _am_. Sure, I may do _some _bad things, but, goddamn, I do that to take _care of myself_, like _dad _would. Dad would be proud, yes he would. Yep. Yeah, yeah, yeah…Damn it, I wish these voices would _leave_. So fucking _annoying_." I sighed heavily as I put the brush down and smirked at myself in the mirror. "No, I'm _good_. I'd never hurt Chase's family, I'm a good person. I am. Aren't I, yeah, Shay? Look at me, talking to myself again, because I'm the only person who _listens _to me. I'm fine. Huh. Just fine." I sighed again. "Bed time, Shaylee Jane? Yeah, I think so. It'll take your stupid fucking mind off things, won't it?"

Although I was trying to calm myself, I knew fully well my frustration had triggered and it would be impossible to stop now.

I hated being told I was losing my mind, because I'm wasn't.

Dad had always told me never to get medical help from the people in Gotham City, because they fucked up _his_ medication and look what happened to him. I couldn't trust anyone. Not even myself.

I guess I could trust Chase, though. In a way.

I then grabbed a flannel, drenched it in tap water and started wiping my face in a hurry, wanting to quickly get to bed. Once I'd removed it from my face, I noticed a tinge of thick whiteness suddenly smeared on my forehead, making me squint and shake my head frantically. When I looked back, it was still there. I tensely rubbed my forehead with the flannel, but it refused to wipe off my head. I did it again, this time I even starting to pant hard as I furiously made my forehead drip with tap water. I then slammed the flannel down and lightly touched my forehead with my fingertips and I squinted hard again, but my vision only seemed to be getting more infested with pixels. I felt nothing but my own smooth skin as expected, so why could I see a smear of white on my head? It wasn't just my complexion, it was like someone had painted on my head with white face paint.

I gasped quietly when I remembered the face paint dad kept in our own flat.

I shook my head again, even banging my fist on the sink and grunting in anger, until it eventually cleared ever so slightly. I continued to blink hard, where I suddenly saw a flash of crimson colour my black-dyed hair.

"Woah, what?!" I exclaimed, juddering my head so my hair swished crazily. It disappeared, but a few more hard blinks later the red hair showed again.

I stumbled over in shock when the room started spinning faster. I was so careless I drooled onto the floor, but I saw it drip onto a concrete pavement. I sharply glanced around me, seeing nothing but a distorted bathroom but a weird pavement below me, but the shower curtain seemed to be on fire.

"What's going on?" I asked no one in particular.

_You are losing your mind._

"What?!" I cried.

_Didn't you hear what Julia just said? You're dangerous._

"She never….! What? _No_!"

_She thinks you're crazy. Everyone thinks you're crazy._

"No! _Fuck_ you!" I yelled. I looked up again at the shower curtain and gasped quietly. "Fire…" I breathed.

_You love fire._

"Shut _up_!"

I then jumped again as I saw the door handle rattling and the door pounding loudly from the outside.

"Shaylee, open this door!" I heard Chase cry, desperately.

_Fire, fire, fire. _

"What about it?!" I shouted.

"What about what?" Chase asked. "Let me in, Shay!"

"I…I wasn't talking to you," I said. _Fire_. "Fire? Of course, fire!" I yelled, without thinking. "Chase! This curtain's on fire!"

"What?!" he shouted.

"It's…I see fire on it," I said, suddenly calm. "Why do I see fire?"

"Let me _in_!"

"I'm _coming_…"

I slowly crawled over to the door and flopped myself onto the door handle, almost swinging from it. I fiddled with the lock until I managed to open it, and was almost knocked out when Chase flung it open into my face.

It didn't hurt. In fact, I started cackling uncontrollably.

"Shaylee, there's nothing wrong in here," Chase stated, looking around the bathroom. He stared at me rolling on the floor with laughter, and I kept looking up at him, not being able to stop chuckling. "Shay, what's wrong?"

He then leaned down to my level and touched my arms firmly, trying to make me stop jerking about.

"It's fire!" I chimed, still laughing. I pointed at the shower curtain. "_Look_! Are you blind?"

"Oh my god," Chase murmured. Julia then randomly appeared in the doorway and gasped in horror. Chase whirled around to face her above him. "Mom…help me get her up to my bedroom."

"What is she doing?!" Julia demanded. "What's going on?!"

I don't know why, but I kept on seeing fire everywhere I went recently. Of course, they weren't really there, they were stupid hallucinations that looked like cheap computer graphics in a 80's movie. The flames burst in front of my eyes whenever I got angry, or in this case, when I just started being hysterical. By that I mean, with laughter. Nothing was funny, of course, but it seemed to me my head was commanding me to laugh because apparently anything that's on fire is hilarious. And it's _so _hard to control my head.

Like dad, I was becoming unpredictable. My mood and emotions changing in a matter of minutes.

"Look! The shower's on _fire_!" I screamed, happily, still rolling around on the floor with laughter.

"Oh, fuck my life!" Julia exclaimed.

"_Mom_!" Chase yelled.

"What?!"

"Help me get her to the bedroom so she can calm down!"

Julia groaned and edged her way past Chase until she came up behind me, and she pulled me up to my feet where I staggered backwards. Chase caught me and like I was drunk, he escorted me out into the hallway, where my laughter died down a tiny bit.

"Chase, aren't you going to put it out?" I giggled breathily, beaming at my boyfriend.

"No, honey…there's nothing there," he said, calmly. "It's all in your head. Just calm down. I'm here now."

"But…but…!" I spluttered.

As Chase started pulling me up the stairs, Julia said, "You see, this is what I've just been talking about, Chase. This can't keep happening all the time, it's ridiculous."

"What?" I snapped. My voice had suddenly lost its mischievousness and my giggle had now become non-existent. I had flinched out of Chase's grasp and was now glaring at Julia, who for some reason was stood there with her arms folded. "What did you just say about me?"

"Mom, please, just be quiet, I'll take care of this," Chase insisted. "Shay, come on…"

He started trying to lead me up the staircase.

"No!" I snarled, wincing away again. I looked back at Julia. "Did you just say I'm ridiculous?"

"No, Shaylee, not you, I mean you having all these breakdowns is ridiculous," Julia said, sounding more nervous. "I'm just worried for Chase because he can't–"

"A breakdown? I'm _not _having a breakdown!" I shouted, even though I knew I was, but my head made me believe I was totally sane and was just simply angry at this moment. "There was a fire! I _saw _it! I did…I _did_!"

"No there wasn't one, Shaylee. You were hallucinating."

"Mom, don't say_ that_ to her!" Chase murmured. "Are you crazy?"

_Did you hear that? They think you're crazy again, Shaylee. What shall we do about this?_

"Do you think I'm crazy?" I asked Julia, almost calmly.

"N-No, of course not," she stammered.

I started to make my way down the stairs.

"Good, because I'm not, you know," I said, shaking my head.

"You just need to calm down," Julia said. "You're going a bit…"

"Crazy?"

I had now made my way all the way to the bottom and starting sauntering towards Julia, who even started backing away.

"Shaylee, go with Chase to the bedroom…" Julia mumbled.

"Oh…I'm not in the _mood _for _that _right now," I chuckled.

Then, all I remember is seeing a vulgar red colour flash all round me.

I can't honestly tell you what happened next in detail because, well, I don't remember at all, apart from seeing that dangerous colour drip before my eyes and of course my head bombarding with all sorts of evil whispers and terrible noises. I remember nearly slipping, but then…nothing.

I next thing I recall was waking up in Chase's bed, midday, like I was Dracula rising from the coffin. I sat up and ruffled my hair. For some reason, my head was still chiming with the word _'crazy'_ very quietly, but I soon managed to fade that away.

I slumped back onto my back and stared at the ceiling, dazed and confused. I'd already peered at the bedside clock which read 12:36pm so I knew I must've slept for a good amount of time. I waited and waited for someone to come and answer all the questions that were nibbling my mind away.

A good while later, Chase's head appeared around the door. I looked at him, the confusion and pain gleaming in my eyes, but we were just still for a long time, not saying a word to one another. Chase almost looked nervous of me.

"Chase?" My voice cracked. I was desperate to hold him even though I didn't have a clue what was going on. "Baby? Are you okay?" I whispered.

"Are _you_?" he asked.

I racked my corrupted brain, even touching my head softly with my fingers.

"I think so," I replied, softly. "I'm a little confused."

"I'm so glad you fell asleep after that last night," Chase said, coming into the room, but leaving the door ajar.

"What happened?" I asked.

Chase stared at me in wonder when he sat on the bed next to me.

"You…you _know _what happened," he said, nervously. He paused when I didn't answer, glancing around for a few moments. "Don't you?"

"Well, I…I know I went a little strange," I recalled. My voice was breathy, almost like I was doing a cheesy narration for a documentary. "I remember…I, uh…I hallucinated. Didn't I?"

Chase swallowed hard.

"I believe so, baby," Chase answered, softly placing his hand in my own that flopped beside me. I gripped onto it tightly.

"I'm not ill, am I?" I asked, my voice turning back to somewhat normal again.

"Oh no…not ill as in…feeling under the weather but…"

"Mentally ill," I finished.

Chase continued to look at me, almost guiltily. I was starting to feel like I couldn't make any expression in my face anymore, but I definitely felt it inside. My stomach churned with guilt and confusion.

"You, uh…you got a little angry. Remember?" Chase said.

"Yeah…I remember _that bit_…" I replied, lingering onto every word I said. "I uh…I heard you and your mom talking, then I went into the bathroom and I saw–"

"Shit, you heard us talking about you?" Chase asked, his eyes widening in worry.

"Every word," I said, raising my eyebrows at him. "But then…I don't know, my mind just starting banging. And _banging_…and _talking_…but…I don't know why I got angry at your mom…I didn't _mean _to, I just…"

"I know you didn't mean to…"

"She called me ridiculous…" I couldn't control the tears starting to tumble slowly from my eyes. "She…she hates me, doesn't she?" I whimpered.

Chase then gently sat me up and squeezed me tightly. I rested my head on his chest and continued to cry, looking outwards, but my eyes refused to blink as I stared into a space, with wonder.

"No, she doesn't hate you," Chase said, softly. "Calm down. Come on, shhh…"

"Chase, don't lie." My voice was quivering. "She does, doesn't she? ...She thinks I'm no good for you, which I'm _not_…"

"Hey, come on, don't be silly…"

"I'm not. I'm being truthful. Oh Chase, I didn't _mean _to act that way in front of her but…I…I don't know what to do to _stop _it. It just _happens_."

"I know, didn't you hear me tell her that?"

"Yes, but…I don't know why she still lets me in her house. She thinks I'm scum, doesn't she?"

"No!"

"Well, if I'm scum then throw me onto the streets right now!"

"Shaylee, shut up! You're _not _scum…"

"Better being scum than being a _monster_. And I'm _not_ a crazy monster. I'm not." I paused. "Chase, that curtain _was _on fire, I swear…"

"Shay, just don't talk about it. Forget about it now, it's over."

I managed to lift my heavy head up and look at him. My eyes were hurting from crying so hard but Chase rested his forehead on mine and shushed me some more. My heart was ripping in two, but somehow managed to pound hard. Chase kissed me on my head, then the cheek and then I couldn't help but pull him onto my lips. When we came out of the kiss, I broke down into tears onto his chest.

"Chase?" I snivelled, once I'd managed to calm down a little.

"Yeah?" he whispered, touching my face.

I looked deep into his eyes and asked, "Am I turning…mad?"

"No!" he insisted, in hushed tones, even cracking a little smile. "Of course not."

I stared at him, uncertainly.

"Sometimes…I feel that way…" I said, in my breathy voice, making Chase's smile fade. "I don't know _what_ to think, my love…" I suddenly giggled as an unstoppable grin grew on my face. "I can't be losing my mind, can I? I'm sane!" I giggled vigorously until eventually the cackle that was waiting to erupt at the back of my throat exploded into Chase's face. I couldn't even calm down properly because when I did I immediately started laughing hysterically again. It was unusual how it didn't make Chase laugh as well. He was just staring at me, almost in horror. "Chase, I'm serious!" I cried, happily. "I'm fine! It's _ludicrous _to think I'm dangerous, or _crazy _or things like that, right?" I chuckled. "You know what? I might well be scum but at least I'm _trying _to smile every day! Like _daddy_!"

"I know, and…that's amazing, sweetheart," Chase said, finally smiling back. My laughter had now calmed, but I was still grinning at Chase like a Cheshire cat. "But Shaylee…you must want it to get better right?"

"What?"

Chase stroked my face when he saw the smile had vanished and I was suddenly becoming emotional again.

"Shh, shh, shh," he said, gently. "Listen. Surely, you don't want these things in your head to carry on? You must want it to stop, right?"

"Every day of my life."

"Then…then why don't you get help for it?"

"No," I snapped.

"Why not, Shaylee?" Chase flopped his hands beside him questionably, away from my face.

I sighed heavily, before I glared at him.

Isn't it amazing how I could be laughing one minute and then the next I could be feeling like I wanted the world to be incinerated?

"Dad always told me the people in Gotham are nothing but uneducated money-grabbing morons who get paid to do nothing but tell you what you need to do in order to be an _ordinary_ citizen," I explained, slowly. I was saying all these words very carefully, over-emphasising everything and bearing my eyes into Chase's soul, wanting him to take in every word. It was very bizarre. "They don't _ever _sit there and ask you what you're _really _going through, because they have no idea, right? They don't get into the _core _of what's _really _going on in someone's mind. They can test on you all they want, but they _still_ have no idea. No one can know what it's like to be a schizoid unless you've experienced the horror for yourself. My dad was diagnosed at sixteen, he tried to get help for it, and it didn't work. They got it wrong. Because even though they _think _they know what to do, believing it's curable and all that, they have _no idea_. Because they haven't experienced it for themselves. So why should some doctor be telling _me _what to do? They don't have a right."

"It's their job to give you what you need," Chase interrupted. "I think they know how to cure it Shaylee, their professionals."

"Bullshit. _I'm _a professional at it, because _I have it_."

"But you don't know how to _cure_ it, you say it's uncontrollable."

"You're right, I don't. I believe there is no way to cure it."

"Of course there's a way."

"If there _is_, then it can't _completely_ work, can it? There'll always be that little linger in a schizoid's mind, no matter _what _medication they have. A mental illness may be curable, but a person's depression and paranoia that triggers it…well…they may _always _come back to restart the whole thing all over again. And _that's _why I'm still suffering from it. Because I'm always depressed or paranoid or _something_ because my life is nothing but shit. Apart from you. The only times my life wasn't shit was when I was with my dad…and…" My voice started quivering. "And he's not here….at the moment…"

Chase lifted my chin up when I looked down at my lap.

"It's at least worth trying, isn't it?" Chase said.

"No!" I shouted. "Never!"

"But Shaylee…"

"Did you listen to a word I just _said_?!" I cried. "It's too late for me. It won't help. I'm not betraying my dad by going to a money-grabbing doctor for so-called help!"

"Shay…"

"And besides, that's your _mom_ wants, not you! I heard you two talking! _You _don't want me to get help, _she _does! And she's not _my_ mother. I _know _she wants me away from you, doesn't she?" Chase sighed and glanced down at his lap. "Look at me!" I ordered. Chase jumped his head up and looked into my eyes, as I did his. "Doesn't she, Chase?"

"That's really what I came to talk to you about, Shay," he mumbled.

"Oh."

Chase took both of my hands, which I allowed.

"Listen, I don't want you to get upset," he went on, "but me and mom had a chat this morning about last night. After what happened, Shay…she, she, uh…she…

"She what?!"

"She...she doesn't want you in our house anymore."

I gripped on his hands tighter and horror creased upon my forehead.

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Look, what you did shocked her a little and she feels like she's scared of you and scared it'll happen again. That's the truth, Shay, and I know it's crazy but…"

"_Scared _of me?" I repeated, my voice dripping with hurt. "I…I didn't _do _anything! Why does she feel that way?!"

"Shay, you attacked her last night."

"_What_?!" I was absolutely horrified.

"Don't you remember?"

"No! No…I…I remember getting angry at her but I don't remember _attacking_ her! I never attacked her!"

"Shaylee, you did, you were out of control, having a _breakdown_."

"_No_! No, no, no…What…what happened to me?"

"You mean you don't remember doing it?"

"N-No…no."

"Really?" Chase sounded shocked. I shook my head. "Oh my God…"

"Chase, please, I…I didn't mean to, I…I don't know what happened," I quivered. "I…I'm so sorry…I don't want her to be frightened of me…I would _never_…"

"Which is why she wants us to move in with Bradley as soon as possible."

I stared at him, a dose of relief poked my heart.

"Your cousin?" I asked.

"Yeah, I told you about it, didn't I?" Chase said. "Now I'm in senior year, mom said I could move in with him, but Bradley said we can have the flat _above _him now because no one's living there anymore. He was cool saying you could come and live there with me, because I told him you have nowhere to go and it would be better if you stayed with me…"

"Oh…I remember…you said your aunt would pay the flat for us?" I said, nodding. "But won't that cost her so much money?"

Chase leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

"Shay, it'll be fine my aunt and uncle are _loaded_," he whispered. "Didn't I tell you that as well?"

"Yeah," I replied. "But how come they have lots of money and you and your mom don't?"

"Because my aunt married a rich guy, Darrell Ingham, who's a secretary. _My _mom married my dad, James, and he had _nothing_. Not a penny. So that's why."

"Oh…oh I see." There was an awkward silence as I fidgeted around on the bed for a moment. Chase kept exchanging glances, looking almost relieved he'd managed to go off the subject about my breakdown and trying to get help for my schizophrenia. But I wasn't going to let that slip away. "Chase, I'm so sorry," I said, out of the blue. Chase didn't answer. "Can't your mom think about it? I mean…I don't wanna mess anything around…and she _knows_ that I can't control myself–"

"Which is why you need the help, Shaylee."

"Chase?" My voice suddenly had a friendly tone. "We've discussed this, darling. I'm not going to a doctor." I was soon talking with a sharper again. "I _can't _betray my dad like that, and if I can't betray him, than neither can you."

"What?"

"You promised him you'd keep me happy. Well, I'll stay happy…well, I'll at least _try _to be happy…if you keep me away from a doctor. Yeah?"

"But…"

"Chase! Do you understand me?"

"Y-Yes…okay." We both sighed. "I just don't want you to get hurt, or, something bad to happen to you."

"Chase, I'm going through enough as it is. Nothing _worse _can happen, can it? It'll be _worse _if I'm put through _that_. Got it?" Chase nodded but still looked absolutely miserable. It broke me a little to see him like that, but I was doing the right thing. At least, I thought I was at the time. After a few moments, I decided to try and change the subject. "Chase, I…I'm hungry, you know," I said.

"I'll see if mom's making anything for lunch," Chase said, kissing my cheek and starting to leave the room.

"Thanks, honey," I called after him. "Chase?" He turned around. "Everything…everything's gonna be okay, isn't it? Your mom isn't go apeshit at me and throw me out onto the streets or anything, will she?"

"Shay, you know I wouldn't let that happen," Chase answered, smiling. "It'll all be fine, you'll see. Maybe you should apologise to mom though…even if you can't remember attacking her because you were so hysterical. I'll ring Bradley tomorrow to see when it's possible to move in with him. Everything will be fine, baby, really. We're gonna be so happy when we live together."

"I hope so," I grinned.

"I love you…" he sighed.

"I love you so much," I smiled.

Chase winked and then left the room, where I reluctantly rose and got myself dressed.

Julia didn't speak to me for the entire day. She gave me food and said 'good morning' but that was it. The rest of the time she just gave me disgusted looks and ignored everything I said to her. It shred my heart to pieces but I also felt myself getting worked up about it and after we had dinner I had to take a cigarette, which just annoyed me even more. I hadn't touched one in five weeks and now I'd just broken my promise that I would give up the smoking.

Things only got worse that night when Chase and I flared up into a heated argument because I brought up the fact he'd started smoking weed. You didn't think I was just going to ignore that, did you? Look, it's not that I have a problem with the drug, it's the fact that now he was smoking it he'd obviously got into a crowd of druggies that had encouraged him to try it, people like Alex, for example. I knew he was lying when he said he wasn't hanging around with weed-smokers like Alex and that he'd just tried it for himself because he thought it wouldn't hurt him. He does this annoying shuffling of his feet and awkward glances to the ceiling when he's lying, so I immediately knew the truth. I wasn't even _meant _to cause an argument, all I did was simply ask him about it, but he suddenly got defensive and started shouting at me. He didn't _scare _me, he just startled me because I rarely saw him like that. Of course I'd seen him shout and take out his anger on people but I hadn't seen him like this with _me_.

Oh God, did I go mad at him.

I had no choice but to hit him, to show him a lesson.

But this time, he tried to hit me back. I guess he underestimated my strength, because I soon made him fall to the floor again.

I simply told him the truth: that he should walk away from me before he gets into anymore danger. Before I one day go too far. That only made him upset and start going on a rant again.

We kissed and made-up but I still felt my head talking to me afterwards.

_You're losing your mind, Shaylee_, they said.

What do they know?

Chase spent nearly the whole afternoon the next day on the phone to Bradley, as did Julia on the phone to Hannah, her sister and Chase's aunt. I sat down in the sofa and watched them the whole time. There seemed to be much deliberation which I thought was pretty stupid because it wasn't a difficult decision, was it?

But luckily, the ending result came back was that Chase and I could move into the flat above Bradley's in three weeks' time, while Chase's aunt Hannah and uncle Darrell sorted out buying the flat for us, which Julia spent so much time on the phone to them about. This was a few days before Chase collected his grades and found out if he'd made it to senior year, but we all knew that he'd make it anyway, especially with his art work. Why? Because _I _helped him, of course.

I can't tell you how happy Chase was when we found out. He literally came off the phone and spun me off my feet, making me squeal in delight. Before I got with Chase, I would have thought all that 'romantic' stuff would make me physically throw up, but Chase seemed to make me enjoy it, especially when it came out of the blue like that. It brought up an especially warm feeling inside me at that moment because I felt like I wanted to crawl away and die in a corner.

After Chase put me down, he buried his lips into mine and we made out on the sofa for what seemed like an hour.

I pulled away from him when I felt his head starting to droop down onto my chest. I held him close and appreciated this moment, even giving his head a little light kiss and stroking his black hair through my fingers.

"What's got you all excited, Chase?" I asked.

I felt him cuddle up closer.

"I'm just so happy right now," he squeaked, sounding more like the girl in the relationship, rather than me. "I'm _so _glad we get to move in in just three weeks."

"Why are you so happy?" I asked. God, being depressed makes you grim.

"Because…this is a brand new start for us, baby," he said, lifting his head up at me. "A chance to just be together and be happy together without all this shit we're going through. Plus, we'll be living in the City and I won't have to get a fucking bus to school anymore."

"I guess you're right," I replied, managing to smile back. "If it's just us two, we can be happier and I guess, less stressed. Plus, you'll have family around if there's trouble." We remained cuddled up for about half a minute, as I took my time letting this curious situation sink in. "But you know, Chase?"

"Hmmm?"

"Just because we're living together doesn't mean we won't live through shit. If you know what I mean."

"Of course, but we'll just be able to settle down together."

"It's crazy this, isn't it? How we're suddenly moving in together like we're young adults yet we're only fifteen and sixteen."

"I told you, Shay, it doesn't matter. As long as we're happy."

I sighed at that comment but softly replied, "Yeah," anyway.

"I can't wait," Chase whispered.

Being the depressant that I am, I had to bring out all the negativity that my head made me unleash.

"Chase…are you sure you want to do this?" I asked.

He lifted his head up to me again, looking at me like he was about to start crying.

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed. "I think it's what's best. Why, don't you want to?"

"No, no…I do…it's just…" I sighed. "I just want you to think about it. I'm…I'm not in right state of mind…" I lowered my voice. "I've beaten you up. You…you deserve better."

"Shaylee…"

"I'm not saying break up with me, I'm just asking do you really think moving in together will make that better? I absolutely hate myself for it…"

"Shaylee, it's not your _fault_…"

"That's not the point! What if your family see it?"

"They won't."

"Chase…"

"No, don't talk about it. Don't bring up last night, either. We were both idiots and we calmed down and said sorry, didn't we?"

"But how many more times is that going to happen?!" I lifted him up and I latched myself onto him. "I just don't want to hurt you anymore. We haven't even been together I year at and…I've already been a monster…"

"Shaylee, don't be silly."

"I'm _not_. I've told you this before."

"You also said the other day you're not a monster."

"Not a _complete _monster…just to you I am."

"Shaylee–"

"Shut up!" I wept, holding onto his face and looking at him, pleadingly. I sniffed hard. "I love you _so much_…"

"And I love you so much. I have since we were eight and nine years old, remember?" We both chuckled. "And because I love you, I'm standing by you. Trying to help you."

I removed my hand from his face and chuckled again. I grinned, but I shook my head at my boyfriend.

"You're an idiot," I laughed.

"I know," Chase chuckled.

"I love you!"

"I love _you_!"

"Oh fucking come here!"

Julia went absolutely mental when she discovered us starting foreplay when she entered the living room again after about ten minutes (yes it escalated that quickly). Chase sheepishly pulled us both up to his bedroom but of course I found the whole thing hysterical. Although Chase became hesitant as usual, of course we just carried on.

The next few weeks carried on like they usually did for me: Julia hardly saying three words to me but feeding me some amazing food, Chase and I having sex, arguments, continuing to have breakdowns, continuing to threaten because of my fucked up mind, Chase and I having sex, eating, writing _The Adventures of Jane the Slave_, Chase and I having sex, occasionally going out shopping or going on small dates and of course Chase and I having sex.

Did I mention we had a lot of sex? Oh well. Who cares? We stayed safe every time, being protected and we enjoyed it and it always took our minds off things that were making us argue. It didn't effect no one else but us two, and that's the most important thing.

Chase eventually received his results in mid-August, and…yeah, of course he got good grades. Okay, they weren't absolutely amazing like he was super intelligent (because he wasn't) but they were decent enough. His art grade was an A, which I took half the credit for, because I helped him. Julia was absolutely ecstatic when she found out, as was I. I'd even say that Julia was sort of shocked because he thought he'd fail due to his little, uh, _distraction_. Me.

Three days after Chase celebrated his grades, it was time to move into our new flat in Gotham City. I went back to my old flat in the morning (which I still somehow had the key for because I'd taken it with me to Harley's break out and was _still _in my pocket when I went to hospital) to get together anything else I want. When I entered the little isolated flat, I stood very still in the hallway, rubbing my bare arms as the coldness still pinched my skin like it had for years.

I glanced around me for a moment, automatically listening out for the TV playing or for something rattling in the kitchen. It never came.

I looked down on the hallway carpet, instantly drawing my attention to where that stain had blood had first appeared seven years before.

I felt proud of myself for keeping together and actually smiling as I looked around the memory-filled flat.

The memories didn't stop when I brought out my suitcase, the same one I'd used when we went to stay with Larry. I felt better knowing that scumbag was rotting away in jail, away from me and away from dad. I untidily shoved my clothes and shoes and of course the jewellery I had stolen and the beautiful earrings Chase had gotten me for my birthday. I gathered all of my precious makeup, too, the pretty and the gothic stuff. As I rummaged through, I found the oldest and weirdest of stuff, like old pictures and drawing pads from when I was little, making me smile as I recalled all the memories that went with them.

I then found something that had fallen beside my wardrobe that gleamed ever so dimly, and I squeezed my arm down the side and stretched my arm to pick it up. Then I gasped at what I'd found. I didn't know it'd got there, but I'd found that silly plastic tiara that dad had got me for my birthday just months before. I stroked the cheap gemmed tiara, and laughed as I remembered what dad had said. "What's a princess without a tiara?"

It was like the one that Jane Price wore on her head because Moskins wanted to humiliate her.

I couldn't just leave it behind, as it was a memory of dad (even though he _wasn't _dead), so I shoved that into my suitcase, too.

I thought I'd gotten everything I needed, but then as I strolled into the hallway with my case, I looked over my shoulder back at the shut door of mom and dad's bedroom. I wondered if it was still in the same condition it was before we left to go and break Harley out.

I walked in very quietly, leaving my suitcase in the hallway. I flicked the light on and chuckled when I saw that the bed was still untidy, with the sheets hanging loosely over it. I couldn't help but put it straight again, even though it reeked of dad's horrid body odour, which had obviously gotten worse as it had not been changed for months. I curiously looked through his wardrobe, where his purple and green coats and jackets were still hanging, smiling down at me.

Looking back at his bed, I remembered my first moment of madness at eight years old, discovering a gun underneath and being totally fascinated with it.

My fingers started to itch with the sudden plaguing thoughts of a gun. I hadn't held a gun for so long. My devious mind made me try and find one to take with me, just in case I would need it for the future when I was out and someone tried to be funny with me.

I couldn't trust anyone. Not in this City. In fact, in the _world_. If I was going to go out doing crime to pass the time (as I was really unproductive), I would need a gun.

And bullets.

Oh, _and _a knife.

Dad always kept some in his chest of drawers, usually in the top draw. I rummaged around in it desperately, until I eventually found two guns, one of which was a standard handgun in the top drawer, the other one was slightly bigger, and the bullets for them were with them, almost like dad had organised putting his guns together with their bullets.

But then, in the very bottom drawer, carefully hid in the corner underneath a tower of underwear, I noticed something that looked like a photograph.

Dad _never _kept photographs. He hated himself in them. Remember?

I pulled it out carefully from underneath the pile, curious to see, and blew off the dust that was pervading it.

I gasped quietly when I held the photo in my hand. It displayed a picture of a beaming couple, a beautiful slender woman sat up in a hospital bed with a cotton dress on, covered by a thin white sheet, and a man by her side, with his arm around her back. She was holding a delicate, tiny baby in her arms, wrapped up in a pink blanket. The baby was highly adorable, looking so much like the woman already, but she had the smile of the man, who was highly handsome with chocolate eyes twinkling at the camera, a large grin and brown wiry hair.

It was fairly obvious who this couple were. Jack Napier and Diana Jenson. My parents. And that baby was me.

A warm smile grew on my lips as I happily looked at the picture of my mom and dad. I even had to put my hand to my mouth and to my chest, lovingly as I couldn't believe it was actually them. They looked so happy. The happiest I'd ever seen them. Ever. They were both grinning widely at the camera, holding their baby daughter proudly. This was obviously from the day I was born, when mom and dad didn't argue regularly. When they were so happy that no one could break them up. When dad wasn't so much of a criminal (although he _had_ started crime back then, but he hadn't gone completely off the rails) and mom wasn't a raging alcoholic. When dad's schizophrenia hadn't _completely _destroyed his mind (not severely like it is now).

I flipped over the photo, where something was faintly written on the back:

_Our Shaylee Jane Napier. 26th April 1991. Xx_

I felt a tear running down my cheek. Then several were falling down onto the picture, which I quickly wiped away.

They weren't tears of sadness. For once, they were actually tears of happiness.

"Oh my god," I whispered to myself. I held the picture close to my chest and shut my eyes. "I miss you," I wept. "I miss you so much." Something then shone when I opened my eyes again. My grandmother's ring was still neatly on my finger and the gemstone shone in the dim light, which just made me cry even more. I sighed as I looked back at the photograph. "Dad…I miss you," I said to it. "Why won't you come _back_? I know you're still out there. I know…I know you'd be so proud of me. I'm staying strong for you, daddy. I am. I know sometimes I…I get mad, but…thinking of _you _helps me, yeah it does! And mom…I know we argued all the time…and you weren't the best mom ever…but…I did _try _and avenge you. I _did_. The guy responsible is rotting away. If he ever came back, I'd kill him. For _both _of you." I kissed the photo and hugged it close to me again. "I love you."

Isn't it strange how I still talked about killing even when I was having a lovely moment remembering my parents?

I delicately placed the photo in my suitcase, putting it in a little zip-up pocket. I carefully hid all of the guns, bullets and knives. I didn't want Chase discovering them, and _especially _not his aunt and uncle and cousin.

I wondered why dad had never told me he had that photo. I knew it wouldn't have been because he was ashamed, but maybe he'd just forgotten he had it. It did look ancient and has been buried in a drawer for God's knows how long. But I couldn't just leave it there. I had to have _something _for a memory of my parents.

Well, a memory of mom at least. Dad wasn't dead.

Julia drove us to the City that afternoon after lunch. Chase didn't let go of my hand the whole journey.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, squeezing his hand the minute he took it.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm feeling good," he replied, beaming back. "How you feeling?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Fine, I guess," I said.

For some reason, I wasn't that excited. The only thing I was super happy about was the fact I was leaving Gotham Town forever. I was happy to see the back of that shithole. I guess I wasn't really looking forward to it because unlike Chase, I was prepared for there to be trouble ahead. I mean, in terms of our relationship. Of course I was _hoping _things would go back to being perfect, but I wasn't so convinced.

Once we arrived after what seemed like a journey that went far too quickly, we arrived outside Bradley's flat. It was all very quiet when the car stopped, with myself and Chase staring at it through the window for ages. I looked up to the flat above, which looked like the grandest flat I'd ever seen, yet only having a miniscule window.

"Here we are," said Julia, eventually. She looked over her shoulder at us in the back. "Are you ready?" she asked, like we were little kids.

Chase nodded. "Yeah," he sighed.

Julia quickly looked at me before sharply turning away and getting out of the car. Chase patted my arm and smiled kindly. We both climbed out simultaneously, where we joined Julia, whose lips were already trembling. She looked lovingly at her son, which actually made me smile a little bit.

"Well," she sighed, "this is it, then."

"Yeah," Chase said. He then drew his mom into a hug, and she hugged around his neck, as Chase was now starting to grow taller than her. "Mom, it's okay," he reassured her. "It's not like this is it, I'm moving to a completely new City or I'm going to university or something. I can come and visit you all the time."

"I know, I know," Julia sniffed. "It's just…I feel so old. You moving away from home already." They came out of the hug and Julia touched her son's face. "It's just now I know you're not my little boy anymore. You're a young man." They paused as she kissed his cheek. "Now, be good and make sure you don't get into trouble."

"I won't, of course I won't," Chase chuckled.

"Oh, come here," Julia whispered and they hugged tightly again. "You don't know how strange this'll be for me, but I trust you. Okay?"

"I know, mom."

"I love you."

"I love you too, mom."

Chase then kissed her cheek and walked slowly back to me, who was started to strangely feel quite emotional. Just seeing them like reminded me of dad. It even reminded me of my own mom.

Julia then looked at me, before looking down at the ground again. She slowly walked over until she was right up close to me. I gazed up at her, expectantly.

"Shaylee," she sighed.

"Yes?" I said.

"I just need to ask you to do one thing."

I raised my eyebrows in astonishment she was actually talking to me.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I know, we haven't got on recently…"

"Mmm-hmm."

"But…I'm trusting you to look after my Chase. Please don't let me down. And don't embarrass me or Chase in front of my family."

"I won't," I said. "I…I just really appreciate the fact you're allowing me to do this, you know? With the shit I've caused, and…I really am sorry, Julia. Honestly. I wish I could stop myself and I know we'll try our best to work on that, but, I really am sorry."

"I'm sorry if you've felt ignored the past few weeks."

"It's okay. That's understandable."

We both smiled at each other, knowing now we'd sort of made up. From looking in her eyes, I knew she believed in me, which made me feel good about myself. I knew she kind of understood where I was coming from. I really did mean it when I said I was sorry. For once. Because I could have almost lost Chase from doing what I did. Even though I couldn't control it.

I wasn't losing my mind. I was going to make sure of that.

After all out goodbyes and hugs and kisses, Julia waved us off in the car, and Chase tightly gripped my hand as we walked up to the front door. I heard Chase take a deep breath before he knocked on the door, loudly. I squeezed his hand, and smiled at him reassuringly, to which he did the same back.

Soon, the door was answered by a young man with a happy smile, wearing glasses and looking fairly smart in a t-shirt and black trousers and thick leather belt. This was obviously Chase's cousin Bradley himself, and of first impressions to me he looked like a total nerd, but friendly, and easy-going. Thank goodness he wasn't totally emo, that wouldn't have helped me at all.

"Chase!" he greeted, happily.

"Hey, pal!" Chase laughed, shaking his hand vigorously.

"How are you?" he asked, brightly.

"Not too bad, not too bad," Chase replied.

Bradley then looked at me, still smiling.

"And you must be Shayni," he said.

"Shay-_lee_," I corrected.

"Oh, Shaylee, I'm so sorry," he laughed.

"That's okay," I giggled. "You can call me Shay. Or Jane, if you like."

"Please, please, come in, come in!" he cried, standing back to make room.

We stepped into the flat with our suitcases and Bradley shut the door behind us. I looked around in awe of the grand flat, which was decorated with glass figurines and intricate patterned walls. The carpet was faultlessly clean, and everything around was perfectly placed, even though this was just the hallway with barely anything in it. Who knows what would be in the other rooms? It was certainly the poshest-looking flat you could ever see.

"Woah," I exclaimed.

"Pretty cool, huh?" said Bradley, trying to sound hip. "Oh and by the way, you'll need to take your shoes off here, don't want the carpet getting muddy."

We immediately flipped out shoes off, neatly placing them by the door along with his.

"Quite a nice flat this is," Chase said.

"Oh yes, but this is mine," Bradley cut in. "Yours is upstairs, come on I'll show you around."

He led us up the stairs and even politely helped to carry my suitcase for me. Bradley showed us round the different rooms, which were all first-class compared to the flat I lived in with mom and dad. I was so relieved to learn there was a decent shower and a big enough bathroom and sink in case I wanted to dye my hair, with a large enough mirror to do my makeup in. There was a little kitchen area with a cute little table and chairs surrounding a TV, but even the kitchen equipment looked decent enough. There was a comfy seating area that was so cramped but I didn't care because I knew if I wanted peace and quiet I could go in there to write, and lastly, Chase and I's bedroom was so cute that I couldn't help but squeal when Bradley showed us in there.

"This is so cool," I gasped, once Bradley had finished his tour.

"Mom thought it'd be nice little place for you two," Bradley said. "The couple who lived here before were so loud and disrespectful I was _so _glad they moved out. Plus, it saves Chase having to live downstairs with me, doesn't it?"

"This is so kind of your mom, Bradley," Chase said. "I mean, this is just so crazy because I'm only in senior year, yet…I've got a flat of my own, I mean thank God."

"Oh yeah, congratulations on your grades, Chase!" Bradley cried.

"Oh thanks, man. They weren't _that _amazing, though, not like yours. The only A I got was in Art."

"Hmmm." Bradley then clapped his hands as he began to leave the room. "Right, I'll leave you two to it," he said. "By the way, mom and dad are coming to visit me tonight, I'm cooking them some dinner. They said they'd love it if you joined us."

"Depends what you're making," Chase joked.

"Salmon and vegetables," Bradley confirmed. "Do you like that?" Chase nodded. "Do you, Shaylee?"

Even though I wasn't convinced, I replied, "Yeah. Yeah, that's…that's fine." Bradley nodded and made his way towards the door. Suddenly, a thought sprang into my mind. "Ooh, Bradley?" I called.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a photo frame of some sort?" I asked. "One I could borrow?"

"Uh…possibly," he replied. "I'll check if I have any spares in my kitchen. What for?"

"I, uh…I have a picture of my parents and I just wanted to frame it…you know…as a reminder of them."

Bradley agreed and made his way back to his own flat downstairs. I dragged my suitcase into the sitting room place when Chase started unpacking, as I didn't want him to spot my weaponry. I piled up all my clothes and other things but I left the guns and knives in the bag and pushed it underneath behind the sofa in there so they were hidden. I placed all of my stuff in our bedroom and left the photograph on the side table. Thank goodness the wardrobe was big enough to fit most of clothes in, otherwise we had to use the chest of drawers, but we managed to fit everything.

After I'd sorted out my makeup in the bathroom and re-brushed my hair, I made my way into the comfy sitting area with my drawing pad and pens and decided to absorb myself away for a while, as Chase had gone for a sleep already. Of course I started drawing Jane Price again, adding touches to her all the time. I gave her thicker eyebrows like me, and not forgetting to make her hair that dyed red colour. I also drew a little red line on her shoulder, like a fatal mark had been scratched into place. I made her start to wear thicker black eye makeup, almost like her blue eyes were in their shadow. She was wearing a sleeveless tank top, with obvious dark bruises making a pattern all the way down her skinny arm. She looked down into her lap with loneliness, and I outlined her father and mother's silhouettes above her, like they were her guardian spirits.

Then I tossed over the page and began to write another little extract, but purposely tying in my own experience and mixing it into Jane's world:

_Jane was thrown onto the floor, blood still smeared on her forehead, making a pretty painting of horror. The bruises on the side of her head still flashed with pain, even more so when she sharply looked up at the masked man who had heartlessly kidnapped her on the streets, bearing nothing but a knife and a maniacal laugh._

_The man removed his mask to reveal a hideous creature who towered above the defenceless sixteen year old. He still twiddled his knife in his hand as he looked down upon his prey, the young girl who backed away with cowardice._

_'Welcome to your new home, little girl,' he whispered, in a sinister voice._

_'Who are you?!' cried Jane. 'What do you want with me?! Please don't hurt me…'_

_'Hmm, it appears your courage is not the same fire your hair represents, eh, darling?' he laughed. 'Take a look around you. This is a nice little place of glass windows and a nice comfortable bed and bathroom. It's also very warm in here. I think you should just be a little bit more appreciative of me.'_

_Jane glanced around her to see that the man was speaking the truth. She was laying on the floor of the richest-looking house she'd ever seen._

_'What do you want with me?" Jane demanded to the man._

_He kneeled down and bore his predatory eyes into her gleaming blue orbs._

_'My name is Robert Moskins, but I prefer Bob,' he explained. 'But you can call me Master, or Sir, okay?' Jane remained there quivering in fear. 'Okay?!' he shouted._

_'Y-Yes,' she whimpered._

_'Yes what?' he snapped._

_'Yes, sir.'_

_'Hmm. I thought you'd be a little tougher than this. It appears I've made a mistake. We might just have to toughen you up a little bit. What is your name, little girl?'_

_'Jane Dinah Price, and I'm not little,' she answered. 'I'm sixteen.'_

_'That's still a little girl in my books. Now, Jane, take a look around you. You like what you see?' He smirked at her. 'It's all very posh, isn't it? You see, I make a lot of money from selling drugs–'_

_'What?!'_

_'Shut up!' he bellowed. He then grabbed her by her thick hair and pulled her closer to his face. He lifted the knife, and soon she was in his dangerous grasp. 'Now you're going to live with **me **now, in our little house. I have no one, you it'll be nice to have some company. If you have any hope of seeing your family again, you're going to help me, okay?! Just a few little tasks, is all it is. And hopefully you'll be strong girl afterwards. Because I kill weak girls. All of 'em.'_

I conjured up ways as to how Moskins was going to make her out of control. Of course, at first she'd simply refuse to start buying drugs for him and doing all this crime in order to get that, but when he started to beat her and humiliate her (making her wear a tiara because he found out she's descended from royalty and making her wear slutty outfits), maybe Jane Price would start to become a badass female, even trying to take down Moskins herself.

All I had to do now was write all the different ways Jane could change, and how many different ways Moskins would beat her up.

Jane was going to change kind of like how _I _changed. Well not completely change into a different person, but just like how I became tougher and more violent.

Showing your own life through a fictional character made me feel better, knowing that I could just let it all out and get my feelings out. Kind of like a diary.

Chase and I made sure all the doors were shut securely before we had sex later on. It was so amazing I had to have a shower and get changed afterwards, because I reeked of sweat and…well…you know. Chase did exactly the same.

I decided to be like Jane and wear a sleeveless top, which was one of my favourites, exposing my scar on my left shoulder, which had healed up so greatly by now I could run my finger on it and I would feel no pain whatsoever. Touching it made my stomach churn, though, because it just reminded me of the worst day of my life.

Bradley called us down when his parents had arrived. Chase surprisingly seemed timid when he greeted them, probably because this was the first time _I _was going to meet them. I slowly stood out of the way while he said hello to them, watching give his aunt Hannah a kiss on the cheek and his uncle Darrell a firm handshake. Hannah looked so identical to Julia is was almost unreal. She was slender and had Chase's hair colour, while his Darrell looked like someone of sheer importance, over six feet tall and wearing what looked like the same thing as Bradley. He and Bradley looked scarily similar. They even _talked _in the same voice.

"Good evening, Chase," Darrell said, shaking Chase's hand. "Good to see you."

"And you," Chase replied. "All been slightly weird starting a new page coming here to the City."

"Well, this is very good of you to start planning for the future right now, Chase. How old are you now?"

"Sixteen, seventeen in February."

"Ahh, I remember starting to work when I was your age. Shame not all the youth of today are so keen to start work and get their own flats so early."

My eyebrows lifted.

Bradley then came into the hallway.

"Hi, mom!" he welcomed, immediately giving his mother a hug.

"Hello, darling," she laughed.

Bradley then looked at Darrell, and reached out for a hug, but he stepped away. Instead he reached out his hand.

"Hey, pops," he mumbled, reluctantly shaking his hand.

"Evening, son," Darrell said. "What you prepared tonight?"

"My salmon meal, your favourite," Bradley answered.

"Let's get going then, got to get some quickly to sort out some work," Darrell said, grumpily.

That's when I cleared my throat, loudly, as I all thought they'd forgotten I was there. They all stared at me, Hannah in particular was eyeing me up and down, curiously.

"Oh, aunt Hannah, uncle Darrell, this is Shaylee," Chase said, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me forward.

"Ah, of course, your new girlfriend," Darrell said, sounding friendly.

"Well, she's not _new_," Chase said. "She's my first."

I smiled at Chase and then outstretched my hand to Darrell.

"Nice to meet you both," I said, trying to sound tolerable at least.

Darrell hesitantly shook my hand.

"And you," he said.

I then put my hand out to Hannah, still smiling, but instead she just bluntly said, "A pleasure," and looked away.

Bradley quickly saw the awkwardness and led us all into the boiling kitchen area, where the stove was switched on and the table was already neatly lay out for us all to sit.

Upon entering, I was greeting by a little fluff ball beaming up at me, with its tail wagging crazily behind it. I flinched sharply when it climbed on its hind legs to greet me.

"Lucky!" Bradley called, coming over and ruffling the puppy. "Leave Shaylee alone, you silly dog. Sorry, Shaylee."

"Oh, that's fine," I stuttered, still backing away from the dog.

"Don't you like dogs?" Bradley asked, leading 'Lucky' away.

"Uh…they're okay," I said, nervously remembering my last encounter with a dog. "As long as they don't knock me over or do my head in."

"Oh don't worry, Lucky wouldn't harm a fly," Bradley laughed. He clicked and pointed to the dog's basket. "In there," he commanded, and immediately the dog dragged its paws into the bed.

"I didn't know you had a dog," Chase said, as we all sat at the table.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention," Bradley replied, as he made his way over to the counter and started plating our meals. "Haven't had her that long, got her from a rescue place."

"It's a girl?" I asked.

"Yeah, spoiled little girl, she is," Bradley said.

"Bitch," I said under my breath to Chase, who started sniggering.

"Excuse me, mind your language!" Hannah suddenly snapped.

I stared at her, startled at how she thought she could just yell at me all of a sudden.

"Sorry," I murmured.

There was a deadly silence as Bradley started serving us our meals. Hannah kept on glaring at me, but I tried not to look at her. She was giving me looks of disgust. What was her _problem_?

Darrell managed to speak up, eventually, addressing me.

"So, Shaylee, how long have you been with Chase?" he asked, as he began to slice up his salmon.

"About six months now," I replied, nodding at Chase, who winked at me.

"And how did you two meet?" he asked.

"We met at school," I explained. "He came to Little Hill Elementary when he was nine, right?"

"Yeah," Chase said. "I moved back to Gotham after me and mom gave up trying to live with dad again in New York. Remember when we tried again with him that time?"

"Ah yes, _that _was pretty pointless, wasn't it?" Darrell said. "Don't know why your mother gave him a second chance, he's useless scum, that's all he is."

"Yeah, _tell _me about it," Hannah cut in. "He hasn't bothered with you since then, am I correct?"

"Not really," Chase replied. "But we moved back to Gotham and lived in the Town and…" He swallowed. "And I went to Little Hill Elementary and that's where we first met, isn't it Shay?"

"Yeah," I said, enthusiastically.

"And what attracted you to this girl, Chase?" Hannah asked, sounding rather snobbish.

I stared at her, my eyebrows raised as I stop cutting my salmon.

"Excuse me?" I questioned her.

Chase noticed my annoyance immediately.

"Oh everything, aunt Hannah," he cut in, quickly. "Well, we both love art, don't we Shay? So we got talking because of that and I shows her a few tricks and then we went to high school together even though she started after me because she was in the grade below me." He then smiled at me. "She's just amazing in every way."

They all just simply nodded and went back to eating for a few moments of awkwardness.

"So are you from the Town as well, Shaylee?" Bradley asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Yeah," I replied. "Lived there my whole life."

"With your parents?" Darrell asked.

"Uhh…well, mostly, yeah. My dad–"

"What do you mean '_mostly_'?" Hannah interrupted, still glaring at me.

"If you let me finish," I said. "I mean like…up until recently, I lived with my dad, because my mom died when I was ten. Murdered."

"Oh. Oh…I'm so sorry," Hannah said, actually sounding sympathetic.

"Don't worry about it," I sighed. "You didn't know. But yeah, I lived with my dad after that."

"And is he okay with you moving away?" Darrell questioned.

"Well…uh…"

I sighed heavily. I glanced at Chase who started shaking his head.

But I thought, if these people were to know me, I may as well tell them the truth. I shouldn't _lie _about my identity. They should be meeting the real me, not the fake one (the Shaylee that pretended to have a fantastic life).

"Shaylee?" Darrell had noticed my awkward expression.

"Well…he doesn't know I'm here," I explained.

"What?!" Hannah gasped. "How ridiculous! Does your father not care about you or something?"

"Actually, sweetheart, he _does_," I hissed. "More than _anyone _in the world."

"Then why doesn't he know where you are?!"

I sighed again. "Do you want me to explain? Because it's quite a long story."

"I'd be fascinated."

I put down my knife and fork and immediately addressed them all with captivating eyes, using my hands to gesture.

"Well…" I began. "You see, my father has gone missing at the moment…everyone's saying he's dead. But he isn't…..Don't you watch the news? Hmm?"

Darrell perked his head up.

"Is this the story about that man in a mask who tried to commit suicide but then had a mental breakdown and now all of a sudden he's gone missing?" he recalled. "What was his name again?"

"Jack Napier," I answered. "My father."

"That was your _father_?!" Hannah cried.

"Yes, it was. No…I mean…it _is_," I spluttered. "He's not dead. He's not. They just _think _he is because the police are so shit they can't work out anything."

"How can you believe such nonsense?" Hannah snapped.

"Mom, please, don't be so rude," Bradley cut in.

"I'm not, but I just find it perfectly ridiculous how she can believe he's still alive!" she went on. "You say you're father cared about you? Well if he's alive, where is he?!"

"He's coming back," I said, blankly. "Just you wait."

"I mean it's nice to have hopes and dreams but you can't honestly think–"

"_Shut up_!" I suddenly barked. "You don't _know _anything!"

"Shaylee, calm down," Chase said, soothingly, rubbing my arm.

"Wasn't this Jack Napier caught at a scene of crime a few days before all this happened anyway?" Hannah said.

"Yeah, so what?" I said, defensively.

"What do mean '_so what_'?" Hannah butted in. "So you think it's okay if your father was at a scene of crime, do you?"

"Look, honey, you don't know me," I snarled, leaning over the table to glare into her eyes. "So I'd mind what you're saying. You _don't _wanna get me worked up." I paused as I leaned back on my chair again. "So yeah, as I was saying, my dad committed crimes a lot…"

"He did?" Chase asked, gobsmacked.

_Shit_, I thought.

"Y-Yeah…" I replied, awkwardly.

"You've never told me this."

"I didn't _need _to, because…it _doesn't _matter. So what if he committed crimes a lot? He was still a good man, a good father. No, I mean he _is_…."

"Are you _serious_?!" Hannah shouted.

"Mom!" Bradley cried. "Cut it out!"

"Son, be quiet," Darrell ordered.

"You say your father, a man who's apparently abandoned you…was a _criminal _and had a mental breakdown," Hannah blabbered on. "You think that's a good _father_?!"

"You didn't know him, so how would you know?" I interrogated, calmly.

"Did he commit crime a lot then?" Hannah demanded.

"Yeah. To me, it's been the same all my life. He'd always been a criminal."

"That's awful, thinking crime was more important than his own child."

"Let me explain something to you, lady. You can't just _judge _someone, especially someone you _don't know_. You can't judge a man who has been exploited as a criminal on the television, who in fact _always _try and make people out to be something that they're not. The news are _like _that. They _twist _things. They twist things to try and get you to hate someone because they did _one little mistake_. So don't you judge my father. Okay?" I paused and a smirk became plastered on my face when she became speechless. _All _of them were lost for words, even Chase. Because they _knew _I was right. Now I had all their attention, I decided to use that to my advantage. "He started committing crime when my mom started drinking when I was three. Wasn't _his _fault that happened. Mom couldn't cope with me, my parents were only in their early twenties…"

"Did they have jobs?" Hannah interrupted.

"What?" I snapped, hating the fact I'd been cut off.

"Did they have jobs?" Hannah repeated, like I was deaf.

"No, they didn't, but what–?"

"Well maybe they should have thought about getting one, having _money_ and having a stable relationship before they had a child, shouldn't they?"

My jaw dropped and I shook my head at her.

"Aunt Hannah, you shouldn't say things like that," Chase said.

"I'm only saying the truth!" Hannah exclaimed. "Can't stop me from saying what is fact, can you?"

"Maybe you should think about other people's _feelings_," Bradley added. "You're being _rude_, mom."

"I'll have you know, Hannah," I continued, "that they _were _in a stable relationship when I was born. They were very happy. I wasn't _planned_, but they still _had _me and they _loved _me. They were quite clever, you know. My mom used to go to university and study psychology but she gave it up when she met my dad…"

"How perfectly stupid," Hannah snorted. "Why would you give up _that _for a man?"

"Excuse me, my mom wasn't stupid, thank you," I hissed. "Look. What I'm saying is, there was a _reason _for my dad to go off the rails…my mom started drinking because of depression, and let me tell you, depression is something you don't wanna go through. I should know. I'm going through it _right now_."

"You think I haven't noticed, young lady?"

I scowled at her. "_What_?" I snapped.

"You're extremely rude, aren't you?" she went on. "Going on about how sad _you're _life has been when I came round to visit my son…"

That's when I my head started to reel ever so slightly. Despite it being quiet, it made me leap up from my chair and glare at her from the other end of the table. She jumped a mile when I started shouting at her. It was brilliant.

"_I'm _rude?" I yelled. "Take a look at yourself! Calling my parents stupid when you didn't even _know _them! And I'm sorry but you're the one who _asked _about my life and all I'm doing is trying to make a point!"

"Shaylee, sit down," Chase said, calmly, trying to pull my down by my arm. "Calm down."

"No!" I shouted, flinching away from him.

"Sit…down," he snapped, gritting his teeth at me. "Now."

I looked at his stern expression and eventually sat down, slowly. Darrell and Bradley were awkwardly eating their meals, occasionally glancing at me like I was insane. That just provoked me even more. I continued to glare at Hannah, who still had temerity to be giving me disgusted looks.

"Look, all I'm saying is don't judge people," I growled. "It's not nice. My father was a little bit of a criminal, but so what? He looked after me, he loved me, and he gave up _everything _for me. And I'll let you in on something, hmm? He didn't commit crime for the hell of it, he did it for _me_, you understand that? To provide for me. He wasn't doing it for money or anything like that."

I couldn't believe it when she had the nerve to answer back again.

"I'm sorry but that's wrong," she cut in. "Darrell, you'll agree with me on this won't you? What most criminals want is money and that's it. Stealing all the money from people like us who actually _work_."

"That's where you're _wrong_!" I shouted. "Yeah, some people may all be interested in is _money_, but my dad did it to provide for _me_! Not all people like that are the same…"

"They mostly are, Shaylee," Darrell said. "Most of them _are _dirty scum who just do it for the hell of it."

"Exactly! _Most_! Not _all_!" I sighed to try and cool myself down. "My dad _isn't _scum. He isn't. So shut up, both of you."

"Can we please talk about something else?" Bradley heroically cut in, wiggling his fork in the air. "I can't _stand _all this racket!"

"Yeah, good idea," Chase mumbled.

The subject wasn't changed, because not another word was said for the whole of the meal. At least, not with actual words. Hannah was talking to me solely through her scowls at me. She and her husband were obviously higher-class hypocritical snobs who just judged all of the lower-class. She obviously knew from the minute she saw me I came from a pretty lower-class background, purely from what I was wearing. I thanked the Lord she didn't ask me about my education because she would have gone on a rant about how stupid I was for not going to school. How much of a scumbag I was for what I did that eventually led to my full-time suspension. God only knows what she thought of Chase's dad when her sister married him. Maybe that was her reason for hating men like that, but I guess I couldn't blame her for that. It's just she was judging me and _my _family when she didn't even know them. She and Darrell probably hated me instantly but I didn't care. I don't care if people liked me or not. I wasn't there to have sympathy. I was only there for Chase.

As soon as I finished, I dashed out of the door and had a cigarette. Stinking of smoke, I went back upstairs to mine and Chase's flat where I flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. I then looked to the side table where I'd left my picture. I reached over and looked at dad's smiling face, stroking the joy that was in the photo.

"I'm sorry about that, daddy," I said to the photo. My voice for some reason naturally came out sweet and innocent, talking like a little girl with a fairy voice. "You were right, weren't you? Gotham's full of judgemental idiots like them. At least I stuck up for you, huh? Yeah. Thank God she didn't ask about the scars, the one on my shoulder _and _on my wrists." I sighed. "She thinks _you're _kind are the ones who want money all the time? _That's _funny, isn't it? Because she has a good job and a secretary husband she thinks she can judge _us_? Nah. If she was given the chance to earn more money she'd _take it_. If she was given the chance to get rid of Gotham's criminals she'd do it in a _flash_, not caring about what they're going through _at all_. Why can't people sympathise with people like us, daddy? Do they just automatically presume all we want is to fuck the world up? I guess…if _that's _what people are going to be like, maybe we should teach them a lesson. I like revenge. It's nice. Maybe one day I'll take revenge on people like _her_. You'd be proud of that wouldn't you?"

I burst out into giggles, until I couldn't stop rolling about on the bed in fits of laughter. My mind was racing, but it was filling up with contagious laughter, which just made me start, too. It was whispering all the things I was thinking about, too, so I knew someone else agrees and that I wasn't losing my mind.

Because, you know…I _wasn't _losing my mind.

My laughter died down when Chase came bursting through the door.

"What's so funny?" he asked, towering above me.

"Nothing, nothing," I replied, still giggling. "Just thought of something that might be funny."

"Well, _I'm _not laughing," Chase snapped.

I looked up at him in confusion.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, sitting up.

"Oh nothing," Chase answered. "Just the fact you spoke to my aunt in that way."

"Chase, what did you expect me to do? She was talking to _me _like I was a piece of shit!"

"Still, you promised my mom you wouldn't embarrass me in front of my family!"

"I'm not being funny Chase…"

"No! Shut up!" That startled me. I was _never _used to seeing Chase like this, especially talking to me like that. "For so long I've stuck up for you, now I'm going to stick up for myself!"

"Go on then," I taunted.

"I know you have anger issues, but talking to my family like that was out of order. When I met your dad I _never _spoke to him like that! I was so respectful to him."

"Yeah, because he was actually _nice _to you and wasn't rude."

"Shut up a minute. Shaylee, I know I never get like this, but I'm just saying, if you speak to them like that again, then I won't let you live here anymore!"

I rose from the bed.

"Say that again," I commanded.

"I said, I'll have to _kick you out_!"

"Oh and _then _where I am supposed to go, huh?"

"I don't know, but you'd have to find somewhere! I can't let you do that again. Who knows? You attacked my mom, what's to stop you from attacking Bradley or something?"

"Chase you _know _I can't help that!"

"I know, I know but…" He groaned loudly. "God! You frustrate me sometimes, Shaylee. You won't get the help for your disorder and yet you complain that you want it to stop!"

"Chase, we've _had _this conversation already. I'm _not _seeing a doctor. End of story."

"Why?!"

"You know why. Because of what my dad told me–"

Chase groaned again. "What? Your criminal dad who you think is God's gift or something?! And _why _haven't you told me all about that anyway? The fact your dad was a criminal?"

"What's it to you?! What does it matter?"

"Because I _love _you!" he screamed. I paused, as I looked into teary eyes. Inside myself, I felt a pain ripping through me. "You're my girlfriend and I _adore _you. I wouldn't want you to get hurt and the fact your dad was a criminal just makes me scared that you _were_ getting hurt around him."

"My dad _never _hurt me," I hissed. "_Never_."

"How can I believe that?" Chase asked.

"Because you can _trust _me. He hasn't Chase, he barely even lashed out at me," I lied.

"I just can't believe you never told me," Chase sighed.

"Why does it _matter_?" I asked, loudly, feeling my frustration flashing inside me more and more.

"Because if he _is _a criminal then he's obviously dangerous and I'd be scared you get hurt around him."

"But I _haven't_! You've met him, seen how genuine and good he really is."

"Maybe so but…Shaylee…he did say he would _kill me_ if I let you down."

"So?"

"Is that not a threat?"

"Well not really, because you never would." Chase looked down at the floor, putting his hands inside his pockets. I knew he felt guilty, but the monster inside myself wouldn't let me sympathetic towards him. It spat out words I knew I shouldn't have said. "You're just like _them_ you are, Chase. Judgemental. You know you shouldn't be, right?"

"All I'm doing is trying to find out why you _lied to me_!"

"Says you who kept your weed-smoking from me!"

"That's got _nothing_ to do with this!"

"Oh so it's okay for you to keep things from me but I'm not allowed to tell you my dad committed a few crimes here and there? And so what if he did? This is between _me _and _you_. Forget about my dad, he's not the one who makes decisions for me, influences me," I bluffed. "I do what I do by my own choices, you realise that?"

"_He's_ the one that gave you the schizophrenia!"

"Oh and you he _meant _to do that?! Don't be so ridiculous!"

Chase shook his head at me when I lunged my face into his, glaring into his gorgeous eyes.

"You make your own decisions yourself, do you?" Chase asked. "Sometimes without the schizophrenia's help?"

"Chase, shut up! Don't you _dare_!"

"So did you set a class on fire on purpose or _was _that schizophrenia, huh? Or _was_ that influenced by someone else in your life who would do that around you, possibly hurting you? Someone like your dad!"

That was the final straw.

_Fight_, they commanded.

With a deafening grunt I slapped Chase hard across the face and glared at him as he held it and looked back at me. I wasn't prepared for him to raise his hand to me, but luckily I reacted just in time and grabbed his hand with my arm, my great strength keeping the hand away from making a mark on my face.

"Go on, hit me, you bastard," I snarled. Chase panted hard, scowling at me. "You gonna hit me? Or do you not have the balls? Huh?"

Chase groaned loudly and sharply flinched away from my grasp. He then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I randomly threw a pillow after him, and watched it hit the door. I screamed loudly to let all the anger escape, as the voices started drowning out my head. I fell to my knees, screaming at the top of my lungs. I didn't care about anything else I just wanted it to _stop_.

They were whispering, gruffly: _Revenge, revenge, revenge_.

"What?" I questioned.

_Didn't you say that's what would make daddy proud?_

"Y-Yeah…"

_Revenge is sweet._

"It is?"

_It is!_

"No…"

_Ha-ha-ha-ha!_

"Shut _up_!" I giggled. "Stop making me laugh, man!"

Why was I suddenly starting to laugh?

_Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!_

Before I knew it, I was cackling again, laughing along with the voices for no reason in particular. I laughed all the way into the comfy room and pulled out my drawing pad again. I stroked the paper like it was a kitten, still chuckling to myself.

"There must be a way Jane got her revenge, right?" I asked myself. "Let's see if I can come up with something."

And that was all I did for the next few months. Write a story called _The Adventures of Jane the Slave's Revenge_. I'd taken all that I'd written so far and tied it all together to make this best-selling story. I even re-designed Jane so she wore clothes that were a mix of mine, Harley's and dad's colourful jackets. She looked pretty badass with Moskins's gun in her clutch.

I didn't see Hannah and Darrell again after that night. I wasn't sure why, but I just think they refused to see me after what had happened. I couldn't give two fucks anyway. They were snobbish upper-class belittlers. Bradley and Chase had to go to theirs if they wanted to visit them. I barely spoke to Bradley but when I did he always seemed to be friendly, which I appreciated. We actually got on very well, I even helped him walk Lucky on some occasions, on those days were I seemed pretty normal.

Of course, I kept myself occupied for next few months. You didn't think I'd give up searching for dad, did you? Oh no, I kept trying to ring him still, and I still went into the City looking for him. Chase didn't want to help me anymore, though. I guess he just wanted to focus on senior year now, which he started in September.

He went and visited his mom on weekends, leaving me alone in the flat. Although I _love _Chase's company (apart from obviously when we argued and hit each other), sometimes being alone was great. I could continue writing, drawing and blaring out the radio and even go out shopping for myself. One day, I got too carried away as I'd been writing about Jane the whole day. I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to put her through next, so I actually sort of bought her outfit. Not completely, but just some of the pretty little things that were totally out of character for me personally.

You see, when you're a writer, it's good to get your mind into the character themselves. Which is why on day in early October and went and bought myself some flaming red hair dye and coloured my hair exactly like Jane's. I thought I suited it, and for once I was quite staggered with my appearance. I even curled it to look like Jane. I bought several bottles of red and black hair dye and re-dyed it once a month, including putting the ends and my roots pitch black, which Chase went mad about because I was using all the rent money.

It wasn't long before Chase got a part-time job anyway, helping Bradley out at his mechanic place on weekends. He absolutely hated it because every time he came in from work we had to have sex too cheer him up. It was a good job I was fairly decent at it, huh?

And, of course I didn't stop with the crime. I was very good at being sneaky and not making Chase and Bradley aware I was doing anything. I stole money and other little things that took my fancy, but Chase never questioned it, he always thought I'd bought them. Dad was an excellent trainer, teaching me how to be such a good little thief. The _only _reason I stole _money_ was so I could use it to buy myself and Chase food and other things like that, because that was important. Like what dad did for me and mom. I couldn't believe Chase didn't notice where all this money was coming from. He probably just thought it was our rent money.

Bradley turned twenty in the December, and by that time my depression had slightly improved. I'd even stopped making my wrists bleed (although the scars still remained). It hadn't improved enough to make me go out to Bradley's party, though. I didn't even celebrate Christmas that year, Chase and Bradley went out together to a family party on Christmas Eve but I wasn't even invited. I didn't care. Chase insisted he stayed with me, but I told him to stuff it and just go out and get pissed. I wasn't going to be responsible for spoiling his fun. I didn't let him spoil _mine_.

In terms of mine and Chase's relationship, well…it kind of didn't change. We still absolutely adored each other, and we always spent time together when we could, Chase taking me on dates all the time. Despite all that, we still argued all the time. Not even about serious things a lot of time, but mostly it was the fact he was becoming addicted to cannabis. He couldn't give the damn thing _up_. I _hated _it so much because it made me be violent towards him…and he was violent, too, but not as much as me. I brought out knives then and again. Chase _never _did that. I told him and told him and told him he should run for the hills because he didn't deserve a monster like me, but Chase being the idiot he was, wouldn't leave me.

We didn't tell Bradley about our violence. Or Julia. We wouldn't dare. Still, I couldn't deny Chase as a boyfriend. He was perfect most of the time.

In the New Year, things carried on as normal with all of these things in my life. I still had revenge on my mind. But for some reason I couldn't do it. I even at some point thought about avenging mom and going back to murder Larry, but then it struck me: Larry was in jail anyway so I couldn't, but even when he came out dad would surely see to it that he was killed.

Because dad wasn't dead. He was coming back. It'd been seven months, but I still knew he was coming back.

For Chase's seventeenth birthday in the February I finally agreed to go to a party. Thank goodness Darrell and Hannah weren't there. I stayed with Chase and Bradley the entire night, though, staying well away from my ex friends. I caught them all smoking weed in the back garden (the party was back at Chase's old house in the town), but I didn't dare start an argument this time.

All was well (well, as well as it could get in my life) for ages. I thought nothing could go wrong. It was actually going pretty decently.

But of course, my life being filled with madness just around the corner, nothing could ever stay perfect for me.

It was a week before my sixteenth birthday, April 2007. I had decided to clear my head, taking a nice stroll through the Gotham City's chaotic streets, as that morning I'd had a schizophrenic breakdown because mom had decided to mess with my head. I saw fire again, it was burning my eyes out and all I heard was mom's screaming which only started me off as well.

Besides, I thought going out would be an opportunity to track down dad anyway, I even went to the police station _and _to Arkham but they told me they'd abandoned his criminal records because he'd been confirmed to be dead. Someone had even registered that death, apparently, but they told me that person was unidentifiable as they wished to remain anonymous.

Oh for goodness' sake.

Once I'd given up my search for the day, I decided to put my feet up. Chase had bought me headphones for our anniversary, also in the February (we had the perfect date in an Italian restaurant and we didn't even yell at each other for the whole entire month), and so I blasted the amazing riffs of The Cure while I sat on a bench near an deserted alleyway, away from most of the busyness, though I could still see people bustling through the streets through a gap in the fence, but they couldn't see me. There weren't many people around as it really was the crummy side of the City, but nevertheless I tried my best to sit back, relax and clear my stressed mind. I'd cleverly hidden a knife in the inside pocket of my purple jacket, the one dad had bought me.

It was all going too perfectly, until out of the corner of my eye I conveniently spotted a gang of boys and one girl taking a time out to smoke marijuana on the corner. They were chuckling amongst themselves and inhaling the disgusting stuff. One boy had his arm around the girl's shoulder, this girl giving a first impression of being a whore, having ratty black hair and wearing tight leather shorts and a crop top. They were so loud I could barely hear Robert Smith enlightening me down my ears, so I kept on glaring at them. I squinted until I finally realised that one of the boys was my ex friend Alex Williams himself, and he was joined by Jason, but the girl and the two other boys I didn't recognise.

I couldn't believe it. Alex was almost unrecognisable because he looked like a total scruffy drug addict.

Although my head started to burn once again, I managed to keep myself calm. I stayed sat down for ages, but they kept glancing at me and mumbling amongst themselves, but for a long while, they didn't say a word to me.

That was, until I heard Jason say very clearly, "Isn't that Shaylee Napier over there?"

I felt like I wanted to die right there and then.

I quickly looked away from them. Bad mistake. I soon heard them all laughing and the next thing I knew they were towering above me. I still didn't dare look at them. I couldn't stand the smell of cannabis (when Chase had one I forced him to go outside).

"Hey, Shaylee," Alex sniggered.

I very slowly glanced up at him, but purposely looked disinterested. They were all still chuckling, grinning at me.

"Hey," I said back, blankly.

"Long time no see, eh?" Alex said, nudging me with his hand.

"Careful touching her pal," one the other boys laughed. "She may not have washed today."

"Yeah, look at her hair," the girl snickered. "Looks like a dirty tramp."

"Have you seen yourself, darling?" I snapped at her.

"Ooooh!" the boys jeered in chorus.

"Someone's touchy," Alex chuckled.

"Oh just fuck off all of you. You don't wanna get me wound up," I warned.

"We're just saying hi," Alex said.

"Well I don't wanna talk to you," I scowled.

"Nah you _never _want to talk with _anyone_," Jason said. "Too busy searching for her dead daddy, lads. She never bothers with _anyone_ anymore."

"Excuse me, I think you'll find I _do_," I hissed.

"Who then?" Jason questioned.

"Chase, obviously," I replied.

"Man, are you _still _licking that nerd's ass?" Alex asked.

They all cruelly burst out laughing.

"We've been dating for a year now, actually," I corrected. "And he's not a nerd. So get your facts right, pal."

"Wow, he must be a little desperate," the girl giggled, gazing lovingly at Alex.

"Excuse me?" I demanded.

"Don't know why he's still dating _you_, Shaylee," Jason said. "You used to be cool until you went all psycho on all of us."

"_What_?" I spluttered.

"Weren't you the one screaming at me down the phone because I said I wouldn't help you find your dad? Because it's obvious he's dead?"

"No he's _not_!"

"And you did the same to Matty, Chris, Tom _and _Chelsea didn't you?"

"They called me crazy," I stated.

"You _are_," the girl said.

My anger suddenly soared up to my head, making me rise to my feet, removing my headphones from my ears.

"You can shut up you don't _know _me!" I snarled at her. All the boys 'oohed' in chorus again, chuckling amongst themselves. "Oh shut up you bunch of cunts!" I yelled.

"Hey, bitch, get out of my girlfriend's face!" Alex shouted at me.

"Oh this is your _girlfriend_!" I cried. "How precious! How long you been together, two days?"

"Fuck off!" Alex yelled, pushing me backwards.

"Don't touch me!" I ordered.

"I'll do exactly what I want, you silly bitch!"

"Oh fuck off, druggie!"

"Druggie?!"

"Yeah, you are!"

"Beat her up, Alex!" one of the boys called out.

"Rip her head off!" the other shouted.

"Yeah, go on, big man!" I taunted.

"Yeah Alex she don't have her daddy to protect her anymore!" Jason laughed. "Stupid _daddy's girl_!"

I felt my head suddenly explode, making me scream loudly to get it away.

"_Shut up_!" I screamed, demonically.

They all were left speechless. I panted hard, my breath shaking as I glared at my once friend Jason, who was looking at me like I was crazy. I clung my hands onto my head.

_You're not crazy, Shaylee._

"I know, I know," I said to it, calmly.

"Who you talking to?" Alex asked.

"Shut her up!" his girlfriend yelled.

_Remember, remember everything your dad told you. What did he tell you?_

"Fight back," I answered.

"Grab her!" one boy shouted.

_He said show people their true colours. See their reaction when everything goes crazy_.

"I'm _not _crazy!" I cried as one of boys grabbed me by my jacket.

_The knife!_

"What?" I screamed as I was chucked to the ground.

"Don't threaten my girlfriend, stupid slut," Alex spat down on me.

"The knife…" I whispered onto the concrete.

"Is she actually mad?" one of the boys laughed.

Then they all started laughing. My mind started laughing along with them. It got louder and louder and louder and _louder_….

Until….

"_Fucking shut up_!"

I had leaped onto my feet and pulled out my knife from my pocket, where they all immediately backed off. I saw the girl cling onto Alex, making me smirk. My widened eyes looked back to Jason, who I started quickly sauntering towards.

"B-Back off…" he whimpered.

"Showing your true colours _now_, huh?" I started laughing.

"You're crazy!" he cried.

"I'm not," I snapped, stopping my laughter immediately. "No…I'm…not. We've been through this." I continued walking towards him, pointing my knife in his face as I eventually backed him up against a bin. "Not such a big man now are ya?!" I chortled.

"Punch her in the face!" Alex yelled behind us.

_Slit his throat._

"What?" I whispered.

"Don't let her get in your face!" Alex called again.

_Alex is worthless._

"Correct," I agreed.

"Are you talking to _me_?" Jason asked.

"No," I replied. "No, no, no…." I sharply turned around to the gang, pointing my knife in their direction. They were staggering away uselessly, apart from Alex, who had remained by the bench. "Fuck off, all of you before I stab the lot of you!" I threatened, loudly.

I smirked widely as I saw them dash off like little cowards. All except Alex, whose arm was being frantically pulled by his girlfriend.

"Come on!" she cried.

"No! Are you all fucking pussies?" he shouted. "Why you feel threatened by the psycho chick?"

"What's the matter Alex?" I cried, triumphantly. "Can't stand the fact this, uh…_psycho chick_ is showing you all what you're _really _like! Seeing you all….run around…like _crazy_. Man, this is _sweetness_."

"I'm calling the cops!" she called as Alex pushed her away.

I shot my head at her and she stood stiff.

"You do _that_, then you'll have this jammed into your throat!" I yelled.

"I'd like to see you try!" she foolishly answered back.

"Go on then, you silly whore!" I sneered.

The contagious cackle in my mind swarmed around again, making me laugh along with it, up until I was laughing in Alex's face, even when he yanked me closer my by collar. I still had the knife in my hand, twirling it skilfully in my fingers. I'd gotten quite good at using one by now. Although I'd never actually torn someone's flesh with it, apart from my own.

Alex was such a fool he didn't realise the danger he could experience right now.

Oh boy, was he going to get it. _Deliciously_.

"There's something actually wrong with you," he snarled into my face.

"Wrong with _me_?" I replied in a girly voice. "Oh, Alex, please don't _hurt _me! Otherwise I might have to _fight back_. Do you want that?"

"Oh give it a rest, you think you're so tough, yet you would never have the guts to have a fight with me!"

I raised an eyebrow at him, dad's evil smirk appearing on my lips again.

I clutched the knife in my palm.

My mind was yelling all sorts of instructions to me: _Kill, fight, revenge, slit, stab_.

"_Okay_!" I laughed.

With a hard yank, I took the knife and maliciously jabbed it as hard as I could into Alex's side. I watched closely the expression on his face. He yelled in pain, immediately letting me loose and falling helplessly before my feet.

For a moment, I just stood and watched him roll in pain on the floor, my face was blank as I witnessed blood running out from his side. The more I saw it spill out, the more rush blew through my body. That sense of accomplishment dad always talked about was coming true. It just shows everything he said was right: in their last moments, people show you who they really are.

In his case, it was cowardice.

But maybe this wasn't his last moments after all. After all, I didn't stab him _that _hard. Did I?

"Worthless son of a bitch," I growled at him.

I walked back over to the bench and grabbed my handbag. It was then I'd realised Jason had done a runner. No one was around apart from Alex on the floor, spluttering up his blood.

I placed my bag over my shoulder and then walked back over to Alex's side, who was now calling out, "Help! Someone _help_!"

I leaned down, and exposed my left shoulder by sliding down my jacket.

"See this scar?" I said, casually. "This is from when I was shot down last year. Now you see, I was scared but…I got help. Maybe you can too. You'll be alright, won't ya? Take this as a life lesson, Alex. You'll have a mark to remember me by _all your life_…"

"Get away from me," he wept.

It was then we heard footsteps gradually coming over to us both, so I immediately stood up and looked expressionless. I didn't want to come across as murderous at first. A short woman with a handbag flustered over, looking extremely alarmed.

"Oh my goodness, what's happened here?!" she questioned.

"Please, help me…" Alex whined.

"Are you okay, young man?" she kneeled down.

"Obviously he's not," I said, monotone.

"What happened, madam?" she asked, standing up again. "Have you called an ambulance?"

"Don't worry, the police are on their way," I reassured.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"I stabbed him," I replied, casually, my voice still blank.

She instantly stepped back, looking horrified.

"E-Excuse me?" she exclaimed.

"I stabbed him," I repeated. She remained quiet. "But don't be alarmed, lady. I don't mind being locked up for a while. I need time to myself."

That was the absolute truth.

Now, let me explain something. Alex didn't die. He was just severely injured. I was arrested and put on trial for my attack, but at court, I pleaded guilty. What was the point in lying?

Dad said he knew I loved it when things all got too much…and they _did_. That's all I did. I'm not proud of stabbing Alex, of course I'm not, but…my mind made me do it. Plus, _they _pushed me to do it. If the druggies had left me alone and didn't start making fun of me for _no reason whatsoever _then it would have never happened.

Because both my parents were apparently 'dead', Chase was the one who had to be informed of what had happened. It's a good job I was under eighteen, wasn't it? Otherwise I would've had much longer behind bars. I spent five months in jail.

Okay, not just in jail, but they have the nerve to send me to _Arkham_.

For fuck's sake I was fifteen years old! How could I possibly have been insane enough to go there?

I wasn't losing my mind. No. I wasn't.

You'll imagine how much grief I gave them when I was being interrogated, I went on and on and on about how it wasn't my fault. Because let's face it, it wasn't. Afterwards, I was pushed past a cell where I saw a familiar woman that looked very much Harley Quinn, wave frantically through the large glass window, her pigtails dangling next to her beaming smile. She looked shocked, but kind of happy at the same time.

Thinking about it, she was _still _serving time for mom's murder.

I thanked the heavens that I wasn't going to be serving time for more than five months. I found it astonishing that _that _was it. I wasn't even upset the fact I had to be locked up, I thought of it as a new experience for me. Dad had obviously done this before, and he wouldn't have been mad at me, he would have seen why I was there. I had caused a commotion. A _great _commotion. And I knew they wouldn't come near me again. Who cares if I went to extreme lengths to keep them away from me? They asked for it.

The only thing that was depressing was the fact I was celebrating my sixteenth birthday being locked up in Arkham Asylum. I couldn't even go on that circus trip Chase and I had planned for my birthday.

No, in fact the most depressing thing was not seeing Chase at all. He was the only person I missed. I missed him so much. He was in tears when I got the chance to phone him but he also sounded incredibly pissed off. Spending five months without him was so hard. I missed having a cuddle off him. And not being able to have sex for five months was also so depressing.

I had no choice but to let them test a few things on me while I was there to see what was wrong with me. Of course they found schizophrenia and ADHD immediately, but they also found something else. Bipolar disorder. I wanted to make them sort themselves out because I most certainly did _not _have bipolar! Well, at the time I thought it was ludicrous. And the saddest part was, was that they had to write every fucking thing down. Fucking fantastic.

It was hard not having a pen to scribble with for five months, as well as just having a gun.

But the hardest thing was not having Chase's hand in mine.

I was so lonely, but I managed to keep myself occupied with coming up with ideas and plans inside my head.

The schizophrenia didn't even play up much which was unbelievable. Of course it did when I got frustrated and the assholes in Arkham didn't really do much to help me. They treated us _all _pieces of shit, because of course we can't be sympathised with.

But they don't know what's it's like for your mind to be going out of control.

In my case, it was going a little bit off hand, but I wasn't turning _insane_.

No.

When I finally was allowed out of Arkham at the end of my five month sentence, they sent me back to our flat, where Chase was even waiting for me by the door. I rushed over to him and held him close and cried into his chest. He said how much he'd missed me, and even tucked me into bed, making me a warm cup of coffee.

But of course, it didn't take him long for him to start going on a huge rant about how thoughtless and I'd been and how heartbroken he was of my behaviour. We had a huge argument, leading to him walking out, his eyes dripping with tears.

Not just walking out of the flat, but…walking out on me.

Just like that.

It happened all in a flash.

With his cheeks dampening, he kissed me hard on the lips and told me he'd always love me and that I'm the most beautiful girl alive but…he couldn't cope anymore. The relationship was too brutal. It was too much.

"I can't let you hurt me anymore," he said.

"Chase…just not yet," I whispered.

He leaned in and kissed me passionately once more. I felt his tear drip onto my own cheek. I then felt water bursting out of my own orbs.

"I love you," he said, gently, kissing my head once more.

And then, that was it. He just left me and told me he was moving back in with his mom and I could live in this flat all by myself, with Bradley's company.

I stood there, staring at the door in front of me, shaking like a leaf, and my tears falling down onto the carpet.

All alone.

I remember clutching onto my now framed picture of mom and dad and sobbing onto our bed. I couldn't believe the only thing I had left I'd now lost. But I didn't blame him. I'd told him so many times to walk away before he got hurt. I couldn't let such an amazing guy hang onto a little thug like me.

Even though I was a thug in love with him.

I broke down….into darkness. I'd lost the only boy who actually cared about me. The only one who saw past the monster I was becoming and saw the real Shaylee.

I screamed and screamed until I had no voice left inside of me. Not even the Devil would help me yell anymore. I even started taking my anger all out on the flat, smashing everything up, my mind spinning and spinning until I was on my knees, pleading him to come back. I saw fire burning everywhere around the room, because I'd just fallen into Hell.

My eyes were red, my heart was broken. Smashed into a million pieces. Chase didn't come through the door again and said he'd made a mistake.

So why did I start laughing hysterically after saw the room all smashed up when my hallucinations started to fade?

You know how I said I was losing my mind? This was it for real now. Now I'd lost him, there was no turning back.

Once he'd left, I flipped onto a clean sheet and wrote the following:

_Jane didn't dare tell her father that he'd kissed James, the town drug addict. It was a mistake, but James had flooded poor Jane with all the right words, making her believe he was in love with her._

_Moskins forced James into Jane's corrupted mind when he appointed her her first duty. All he did was slam a knife in her trembling hand and order, 'Go get some, Princess Jane'. He didn't mention what to exactly do, but her reward was possible freedom, and Jane hoped she could run into James's arms again if she did her duty correctly, even though inside she felt sick._

_She brushed her dainty feet across the sand on the sticky beach that evening, searching and searching for her ticket to freedom. She had a knife, a phone, and a tiara on her head, waiting for something to peer round the corner/_

_Then suddenly she saw her chance. By the wall, was a stray Rottweiler puppy, peacefully sleeping the day away. Noiseless, Jane creeped over to the helpless puppy, and raised her knife._

_'I'm so sorry,' she whimpered, the tears streaming down her cheeks. 'Love makes you crazy.'_

Love certainly _does _make you crazy.

The last few months of the year (which appeared to have come round far too quickly), I went out of control. My _mind _went crazy, telling me to do all sorts of stuff because 'I'm a fighter'.

I loved seeing things go my way.

Oh and just because Chase finished with me doesn't mean I never saw him again. I did. I saw him all the time. I even travelled down back to Gotham Town when his mom wasn't home just so I could spend time with him 'as a friend.' Even though now we were just 'friends', we still ending up fucking all the time. He even took me out when I was at my most stable. Chase could never keep his _hands_ off me. I was still hopelessly in love with him, and I think he still loved me too. We _were _childhood sweethearts after all. I even still bought him a gift on his eighteenth birthday the following February. (Stolen) clothes, a book and chain, and of course also some money.

Chase wasn't the only guy I fucked over those few months. I even slept with Bradley, although that was the biggest mistake I _ever _made because he was my ex's cousin. But we never told _anyone_. He was useless anyway. Bradley, though, attempted to stay friendly with me after Chase and I's relationship broke down when I came back from prison. He supported me and even offered me a job, but I simply refused.

My mind couldn't take work.

It doesn't _matter _how many men I slept with because I was single now. I was _always _safe and besides, I enjoyed it.

I went back to prison only twice, once was because I set fire to Hannah and Darrell's back garden. It was so hilarious I didn't even care I was arrested. I just _knew _I'd get my sweet revenge on _those _stuck-up morons.

Dad still decided not to make an appearance the _whole _time but I still never lost hope. I had my parents' picture to make me feel better, and of course I still kept on writing _TAOJTS_, where Jane Price was now becoming more like me than ever, although I keep a certain innocence about her. I even started wearing that plastic tiara whenever I wrote a chapter. It was starting to become quite bizarre and twisted but I _loved _it. The story yelled with gore and horror. It was delicious.

I couldn't believe I'd managed to stay in that flat the whole time, but I guess I had Bradley to help me with that. I never saw Julia again. I wondered if she knew I was still sleeping with Chase, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. I bet she was even glad Chase decided to leave me.

In around November 2007 (this being the same year I went to prison for the first time and I broke up with Chase, if you know what I mean), there was a rise of a new figure in Gotham. Everyone worshipped him, but I thought he was absolutely ridiculous.

The Batman.

Now, this Batman character was supposedly meant to be Gotham's protector of the criminal underworld, but no one knew who he actually was, you see, as he dressed up like a two-year-old in a Bat suit which completely covered his face. He was on the news constantly, helping out that interfering asshole James Gordon take down criminals. I wasn't really sure why he suddenly appeared, but he did, and he was every criminal's worst nightmare.

Ha! I lied! He wasn't really that successful. No one was afraid of him. I mean, he never looked intimidating to me.

Not long after he rose in Gotham, he took down this Ra's al Ghul, who _finally _saw the light and tried to take down Gotham City. Good for him, I say, _actually _following what dad said. Unfortunately, he was taken down by the Batman and Gordon, but the mess he created that time actually proved to me what dad had always told me: that one day I would see how dark and menacing the general citizens could be. That when chaos is spread, it shows what people are really like. He even said one day it would all come true. And it _did_.

I wondered why he never came back and congratulated Ghul.

As we moved into 2008 (where I was locked up behind thick bars twice more but my mind starting slowly spinning out of control more than ever), things carried as normal as they got for me. I just was trying to be the strong little defence criminal daughter dad had wanted me to be, until that day he would come back and be proud of me.

My hair continued to be dyed red, and I even started wearing makeup like Jane Price because I was becoming so besotted with my story. It was the longest story ever, but I guess I created a series of mini-crises for Jane and Moskins. I even wrote about James a little (who of course is a bit of more of the criminal version of Chase).

About nine months after the fall of Ghul, in around July time (by which point I had celebrated turning seventeen by going to a nightclub with Bradley), a new district attorney had come into power, a man known as the 'White Knight', who prosecuted criminals like Batman did. Gotham absolutely adored him, and his ugly fiancée Rachel Dawes worked closely with him.

Around the same time, Chase had told me his mom had been admitted into hospital to have a kidney removed which of course made him depressed and crying to me on the phone all the time. I _wanted _to feel sorry for him and Julia, but for some reason I wouldn't allow myself to be sympathetic.

I was depressed as it was. I thought I'd managed to fight it off, until it came back to haunt me and particularly after I turned seventeen my depression kicked in again. Parading around on the streets and causing trouble by committing crime like the ultimate troublesome teenager is stressful you know. So much fun, but stressful. Especially when you're a schizoid and an apparent bipolar freak.

I waited for a new force to rise up against this arrogant little freak. It would be so much fun to see.

And I thought no one would.

That was, until one day, July 24th 2008, I was sitting in my flat's kitchen, deciding to have a lazy day. My mind was buzzing, my hair was a mess and I looked absolutely horrific. I had just helped Bradley downstairs with delivering Lucky's three puppies. Don't know how the bitch got pregnant, but somehow it did.

I'd had just an ever so slight schizoid breakdown that morning, so I thought watching the news would cheer me up. I wasn't really paying attention at first because I was writing more Jane stories, even having the tiara on my head.

Something caught my attention when the male news anchor started speaking into the camera in a very serious tone of voice.

"We can confirm there is in fact what appears to be criminal mastermind on the loose," he said.

I stared at the TV. My mouth opened into a beam.

"About time!" I cried, starting to giggle.

"This man has been spotted around Gotham wearing a clown-like mask and when revealed he wears clown makeup and has a Glasgow smile on his face, made from scars that trace on his mouth. His hair is dyed green and it is reported he calls himself The Joker. He has sent out a warning video message of his demands of what he wants Gotham to do, which includes demanding the Batman reveal his identity. We are unsure of what this psycho plans to do to our great City but the police have confirmed that he looking to be a serious threat." I found this all very strange. Green hair? A Glasgow smile? Clown makeup? _The Joker_? My heart was pumping out of my chest. I was now leaning in closer to the television, eagerly awaiting to see this apparent 'psycho's' warning. "We have been allowed to show this video on our News channel tonight to make the people of Gotham aware and to take action and protect your children."

"Oh fucking get on with it!" I yelled at the screen.

The news anchor went on and on, until he finally said, "Please be aware the image is disturbing."

It then immediately cut to a shot of a man dressed up as Batman glued on a chair, being restrained as his hands were tied behind his back.

The first thing I heard was a male voice behind the camera that made me shudder with nerves. It sounded so cold and menacing. I'd heard a lot of voices like this, but nothing came close to the callousness of what was coming out from behind the camera.

"Tell them your name," it said in almost scolding tone of voice.

It sounded so familiar it made my heart begin to race and put my finger to my mouth.

"Brian…Douglas…" the fake Batman nervously answered.

"Are you the real Batman?" the man behind the camera asked, talking to him like was six years old.

His voice made me tremble.

"N-No," the hostage answered.

"No? _No_?!" The cameraman sounded like he was about to explode from his sinister sniggering. They were right, this new threat to Gotham _did _sound like maniac. "Then why d'ya dress up like him?!" he yelled, yanking the mask off the man's face. He jigged it front of the camera, continuing to snicker insanely. "Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" he jeered, waggling it in front of the camera before throwing it to the side.

I couldn't believe the victim had the courage to answer back.

"He's the symbol we don't have to be afraid of scum like you," he answered, his voice trembling.

Wow, such an idiot for saying something like that.

I was fixated on the video in front of me, listening closely to the voice. It started to frustrate me.

The camera has now moved closer on the victim's terrified face.

"Yeah? You _do_, Brian! You _really do_! Huh?" the sinister voice came again, now in a dangerous tone of voice that almost sounded like the Devil himself.

It sounded like dad.

I gasped quietly.

"Oh shush, shush, shush…" he continued, stroking the victim's face, before giving it little harsh slaps, like a command to obey him. "So you think, Batman's made Gotham a _better _place?" he inquired, now backing away slightly. Then there were just little grunts, as the maniac lead the shaky camera away from the man. "Look at me," he commanded. "_LOOK AT ME_!"

Although it was on the screen, his insanity-filled demand felt like it rattled to walls of my flat. I even jumped a little and screamed in shock, which is something I _never _do.

The room fell into complete silence.

I anxiously continued watching, where by now the camera being vigorously turned around. It then revealed the cameraman's face. I gasped loudly at the sight of him. He was exactly as they'd described: thick clown makeup of white and black so it was almost impossible to imagine him with a natural skin colour, scars that formed a gruesome Glasgow smile and greasy green-dyed hair.

Just like dad's hair.

His exposed teeth were pure golden but neat at the same time. The lips were painted red, as they came up close to the camera, spouting out his words of warning.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

"You see _this _is how _crazy _Batman's made Gotham!" he snarled into the camera. "You want order in Gotham? Batman must take off his mask and turn himself _in_!" He almost sounded out of breath from taunting too much. "Oh and every day he doesn't people will _die_. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my _word_."

He burst into psychotic laughter, whirling the camera out of control, whilst a man screamed for his life in the background. The camera faded into blackness, before returning to the news anchor again.

"If you have any information on The Joker's whereabouts, please inform Gotham police immediately so we can rid of this maniac," he said.

I sat there very still. I replayed what I'd just seen over and over.

My breathing became distorted as I placed all of the pieces together: green hair, like dad had had it almost his whole life and rotten teeth, just like dad's. His voice was strange: one minute it sounded animated like an actual clown's, and then it sounded baritone but had that viciousness to it that made it seem more natural. More human. Dad has sounded _just like that_ the night he tried to commit suicide. It's something his mind did to him. The Glasgow smile? Well, his face _had _been damaged that night as well, so maybe _that _was the cause of it. The clown mask: I'd even _seen _that myself. I recalled his facial features.

I began to nod.

And finally the name: The Joker. He always said life was a _joke_, he always wore funny clothes like a clown, and he found clowns _scary_ as well. That makes sense. But then again…I designed cards for him with a Joker on it.

A beaming smile appeared on my face as I worked it all out.

That _was _dad.

"He's alive," I said to myself.

_Don't be silly, Shaylee._

"No! Fuck you!" I yelled at my voices. "I told everyone I wasn't crazy." I rose to my feet. "But _no one _believed me, did they?" I pointed a frantic finger at the TV screen. "And he's _alive_! He's _alive_! I _knew _it! Oh dad, I _knew _you'd come back!"

I pranced around the room, so joyously, like I was a rabid fan girl at a concert, squealing and clapping my hands while giggling uncontrollably. I was probably the only person in Gotham doing this after watching such an appalling video.

But then I stopped.

I realised that it wasn't dad at all. This was The Joker. They couldn't have been _that_ different, surely? It was still my father? Right?

I wasn't sure whether I should have laughed or cried at that moment.

But fuck it, I just went and _laughed _anyway!

* * *

**Mwahahahhahaaa! **

**Btw, the date mentioned July 24th 2008, was the year The Dark Knight came out in the UK, my hometown bruv!**

**So yaay, Joker's here now! And he's here to stay ;)**


	15. The Change

_**Welcome to Part Two. The events of The Dark Knight itself. **_

_**NOTE: C**__**ontains violence, distressing and disturbing moments.**_

* * *

**PART TWO: PRICE**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - The Change**

I lay still on the kitchen floor, gazing at the ceiling for what seemed like an hour. I couldn't stop grinning. So many thoughts were bashing each other inside my head. It was almost like my mind was in a battle, good and bad thoughts fighting each other to succeed in making me go their way.

I just couldn't believe it. After two years, it was confirmed my dad was alive. Well, confirmed to _me_, anyway. I fucking _knew _it and no one believed me! And before you ask how I knew he was alive…I didn't _really_ know he was, it was just gut instinct that he would come back. Of course, I was beaming about that fact, but I also knew for a fact he hadn't come back to get me. He'd simply come back to terrorise and make Gotham miserable for a while, because, like he said to me, one day all his work would pay off and everything would go his way. Everything he told me about the world would come true. I know he'd never let _me _down.

But I couldn't help wondering, why now? Why didn't he do this a year before or something?

Dad's not stupid, you know. He'd come back as a 'different' man, and used his old habit of disguising himself to keep his identity a secret, but this time he'd gone a bit extreme. He was hardly recognisable at first, even to me. It was the laugh and the hair that gave it away mostly.

_Now _I knew why he hid face paint in the flat all the time when I was a kid. I presumed he'd been creating this character for years. But of course, he'd totally lost his mind now. I wasn't lying there believing he'd come back and he was exactly like dad again, I knew that he was now something in a different league. Wherever he'd been for two years, he'd obviously gone through two years of mental suffering to become this maniac.

I felt my heart beating ceaselessly, as I realised maybe that would happen to me one day.

I then jumped in surprise when I heard my phone ringing from my bedroom. I reluctantly rose and very slowly walked into my room. I flicked open my phone and my heart skipped a beat when I saw it was Chase calling me. He _never _rang me first since our painful split.

"Hello?" I answered, still grinning.

"Hi," he said, blankly.

"Wow, you sound rough," I laughed.

"I am, went a bit overboard last night," he explained. "Think I got too pissed. I don't even know _what _happened."

"You fucking idiot," I said. "Anyway, what do you want?"

"Did you watch the news just now?" he asked, life now creeping into his voice slightly.

I grinned. "Oh yes, I certainly did."

"I just wanted to make sure what I just saw was for real? I mean, did you just watch a video of some lunatic saying people will die every day if Batman doesn't turn himself in?"

"Chase, of course it was for real, this is just another pathetic excuse for you to ring me," I moaned. "Don't you think I'm stupid, Chase."

"Hey, I was just _asking_," he groaned.

"You're still drunk," I said. "Your voice is slurred as fuck. Not drunk enough to pay attention to that video, though, I guess. Yes, Chase…it was real."

"Oh right." There was an awkward silence as I slid my tongue around the inside of my mouth and tapping my foot in impatience. "Shay?" Chase finally said, still in his drunken stupor.

"What?"

"Is…is he _really _going to start killing people?" He asked the question like he was a petrified little child. He was eighteen now, for goodness sake. "I mean…this all happened about nine months ago with that loony Ra's al Ghul, it surely won't start happening again, will it?"

"Trust me, Chase. This is going to be better than that."

"What do you mean by that? Are you saying this is a _good thing_? How is this a good thing?" he demanded. "My mom is in hospital and I can't even protect her!"

"Chase…Chase, calm down, okay?" I said, almost soothingly. I didn't want him to panic, after all. I guess. "She'll be alright. It's not like there won't be extra security around the hospitals and schools now that this…Joker is on the loose. Trust me on that one, okay?"

"I know, I'm just…I'm just scared," he said, quietly. "I'm so worried I'm even considering ringing my dad for help which is _rare _for me."

I sighed heavily. I couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Chase, do you not realise who this guy _is_?" I questioned.

"What do you mean?" he asked, baffled.

"Listen, I know this sounds crazy but…"

I paused for a long time. I could even sense that Chase could feel my large smile down the phone because he started stammering, nervously.

"What?" He suddenly sounded the most awake he'd been so far in his hangover. "What is it?"

"It's dad!" I exclaimed.

There was an intense pause, but I continued smiling widely, as Chase stuttered for a few awkward moments the other side of the line.

"Sh-Shaylee…don't be ridiculous," he finally said.

"What do you mean by _that_?" I snapped. My smile faded instantly and I had a scowl on my face.

"How is it possibly your dad? He's de–"

"Because I think I know my dad when I see him," I answered. "Even if he _is _dressed like a clown. Are you saying you didn't recognise him _at all_?"

"Well…no. Wait…no _way_. It can't be. It's just…how is that possible? He came back from the dead?"

"He never _died_."

"Shaylee–"

"Shut up! I _told you_! I told you, told you, _told _you! Time and time again! And would you believe me? _No_! I said I wasn't crazy, didn't I? I was right all along! And he's back!" I squealed, deafeningly. "He's back, Chase!"

"But…it didn't look anything _like_ him."

"Exactly! That's the _point_! He's become The Joker so the police don't recognise him, Chase! So _no one _recognises him now!"

"So how come _you_ did?"

"Because I worked it all out. It's a long story, but this time I'm not seeing things! I'm being truthful!"

"Shaylee, if it _is _your dad, don't be a twat and go running after him. You'll get _killed_."

"Do you think I'm _that _stupid? Of course I won't go wandering off to find him. I'm just going to…let him come to me."

"And be killed?"

"He'd never kill me."

"Shaylee, he's clearly a psychopathic lunatic."

"And?"

"They kill people instantly. It doesn't matter who you are. What's to stop him from killing you?"

"Oh, Chase, _really_? Just _please _don't even put that into my mind, and remember, Chase: this is a little secret between you and me, okay? _No one _can know of his identity. He's the Joker now, and that's what I'm going to call him. If you tell anyone…oh God, if you tell _anyone_…"

"Shaylee, if this is true, and it really _is _your dad…"

"It _is_!"

"Okay, okay…but why tell me in the first place if you don't want anyone to know?"

"Because you're my… my friend and I trust you."

"Shaylee, I don't know. I don't think you realise how serious this is if it really is true."

"_Chase_! If you tell anyone then I will kill you! I'm going to _kill you _if you tell anyone!" I suddenly went ballistic, jumping up and down crazily in my flat hallway. "You'll betray me if you tell _anyone_. I only _really _told you because I got excited! I didn't _mean _to. Shit! I'm such a fool."

"_Excited_? Fucking hell, Shaylee!"

"Don't 'fucking hell' me! Do you realise how amazing this is? My daddy has come back when _everyone _believed he'd gone and killed himself! This is fantastic! I proved to you _all _I wasn't crazy!"

"Shaylee!"

"Crazy Shaylee I am _not_! Prepare for chaos, Chase!"

"I can't believe you."

"So…now I've proved I wasn't crazy and I was _right_…uh…will you take me back now?"

"What?! No!"

"Chase…"

"Shaylee, you _know _I can't do that!"

"You're still in love with me, let's face it!"

"I said to you that I'll _always _love you…"

"Then why you still fucking me then and again?" Chase went silent, stammering again. I laughed joyously. "Don't worry Chase, everything will be fine, you'll see. Your mom's gonna live as long as the hospital is protected, and it will be…you _know _it will be. The Batman and Gordon and dimple-face will just roam the streets for a few weeks and the politics are gonna get a bit angry and shout at each other and at the TV but that's all that's going to happen, you'll see. I have to go, bye chick!"

"Shaylee, wait–!"

I ended the call and chucked the phone in any random direction. I sighed innocently and skipped into the bathroom, immediately fixing my blood red curls in the mirror. I jumped a mile when Bradley suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Shay?" he said.

I darted around and smiled kindly at him.

"What is it, darling?" I asked, sweetly.

I was purposely flirting with him in hopes I could get him into bed later (even though he wasn't that good), just to mess with his head. I thought, if my head has been through hell, especially in that last two years, why shouldn't other heads be messed around?

Bradley looked slightly taken aback when I acted in my unusual sweet fashion.

"Uhh…just taking the dog out for her walk," he explained.

"Oh okay," I said, feeling disappointed. "Don't be long. Are you taking the puppies?"

"They're still a bit young to be taken out for a walk, Shay."

"You haven't even _named _all of 'em yet."

"I can't think of anything."

I smacked my lips in thought. I glanced up at the ceiling, attempting to come up with something.

"Are they males?" I asked.

"Two of them are, one's a female."

"Ahh, one's a bitch." I continued thinking _way _back. Then a lightbulb twitched above my head. I grinned back at Bradley. "How about…Ace?" I giggled.

"Ace?" he repeated.

"Hmm. For one of the males," I added. "I used to have a dog called Ace."

We both paused for a while.

"Name it after him?" Bradley asked.

"Yeah…" I sighed. "Be nice."

"Sounds cool to me."

I continued smirking, looking up at the ceiling.

"Little Ace the Second," I whispered.

Bradley then started giggling, and I laughed along with him, giving him a cheeky wink and flicked my hair back over my shoulder.

"You're a nutter," he chuckled.

"And you love it," I laughed, giving him another wink.

I swear he stared at my tits right then because he blinked hard and shook his head vigorously.

"Alright, well, see you in a bit," he mumbled.

I blew him a kiss and watched him walk away as I looked back at myself in the mirror. My makeup had all gone slightly smudged, and I traced my pale face and black lips. My eyeliner had been running from crying that morning, so I ferociously rubbed it away, and re-did it, overdoing the thickness of it, so it made my eyes stand out, like Jane Price. Jane also had rosy cheeks due to overabundance of crimson coloured blusher, so I suddenly had the urge to slap that on, too. Once I'd finished, I re-curled my hair with the curler I had stolen (too easily, too).

I then ventured to the bedroom, opening the curtains wide open and staring out of the window of what would soon be a falling apart Gotham City. I smiled because I knew dad had it in the palm of his hand now. I knew he'd scare people into helping him, too, and if he was trying to get rid of Batman, that was a bonus, because he got on my nerves, thinking he's such a badass and such an awesome detective. I'd seen clips of him on the News and he was incredibly boring. Oh, was dad going to show _him_ a thing or too!

Sorry, I mean…The Joker.

I wondered if he still used my Joker cards I had designed and made as a ten year old. Perhaps they were the only reminder he had left of me.

For the next few days, I actually stayed locked up in my flat for the majority of the time. Like I said, I'm not a dumbass, I wouldn't dare go out and put my life at risk like that. What went on was pretty goddamn brutal. Even though I was sort of desperate for my taste buds to experience the action. I wanted to taste it on the tip of my tongue. But I just couldn't, I wanted to at least be alive (even though in that two years I'd considered not being alive but I decided to keep my life going just because I'd let dad down if I killed myself. That's immediately showing weakness).

I watched the news updates constantly to find out what The Joker was getting up to. I was right about the fact he'd got people to help him, because apparently he was working and outwitting some mob guys called The Chechen and Maroni, but I wasn't really sure what for.

But that's not important, what's important thing is The Joker did _everything _that dad had envisioned…he _loved_ it when everything got too much. When something called chaos happened at every corner. Even I knew that. He had tried to hide that fact when he was just Jack, but he couldn't keep anything from me. I guess what he was trying to do was what he'd always attempted to show: the citizen's true colours, but now, was taking things to the extreme. He roamed around the City for days, doing exactly as he promised: to kill people until Batman took off his mask. And you know what? He _never _did, the absolute _imbecile_, and Batman would never straight up shoot The Joker either because apparently he refuses to kill _anybody_. He made my love for bats start to deteriorate.

The Joker was definitely dad. One hundred percent. He had his strong intelligence: he knew what he was doing and was greatly skilled with guns and knives of the most obscure kind (thanks to Harley and Larry). I knew exactly what he wanted to do: he wanted to break even the most unbreakable of minds, simply because this would just cause chaos in Gotham, seeing the 'good' people fall. That's what he wanted to see, the apparent 'good people' who had good jobs and high power that had made his life a misery as a teenager and when I was a small child, he wanted to see them fall. It _all _made sense to me. Of course, no one else had a _clue _of The Joker's actual motivation for chaos, _I _was the only one aware of that. It felt so special. His traumatising events were revealed on the news as the days went by, and they reported The Joker was trying to achieve nothing but chaos and misery in Gotham, and he would continue doing it until Batman gave in.

I kept saying to myself I'd much rather he _didn't_ turn himself in.

I knew it was my father because I recognised the weird voice that had come out that dreadful night when he said goodbye to me. It was the green hair (although it was greasier than ever and much darker now) and the way he dressed was similar to how dad used to dress. Although much more outlandish now. Through his scarred face and all that menacing clown makeup, I really did see my father. Crazy as it was, I knew it for a fact it was him.

Over the next few days, myself and Bradley kept up with what sort of events he got up to over the next few days. You won't be surprised to know that there were mass killings, including deaths of criminal bosses, scumbags and just random citizens. He even killed the Mayor of Gotham at a parade one day that he had clearly threatened to ambush but of course they just went ahead and did it anyway. Then he crashed the grand party at Wayne Manor (home of that sort of handsome billionaire Bruce Wayne), and one night he went and raised hell in the streets with his men, where he got himself arrested and thrown in Arkham, allegedly on purpose so his idiot goons could take Dent and his cabbage-face fiancée Rachel Dawes (who I saw in the paper and burst out laughing as soon as I saw the large picture of her) hostage at two different locations and then he went and fucking blew Rachel up in a gorgeous explosion and left Dent hospitalised with serious facial damage.

I was completely gobsmacked with what was all happening. It was deliciously chaotic, but at the same time it did leave me a little nervous. I mean, our flat could have been bombed at any given moment, but luckily our flat wasn't near the main City Centre, where most of the action was taking place. I was captivated with what The Joker was doing. I knew I shouldn't have been, but it was just the fact everything dad promised me was going to happen came true.

"This is crazy," Bradley said to me, the morning we discovered Dent was in hospital.

"Tell me about it," I replied.

We were sitting on the sofa together in his flat downstairs, I had my arms folded but I was stroking Lucky's fluffy brown fur, who was resting on my legs. The news on the television became muted as Bradley stupidly couldn't take all the gore that was being shown.

"Where did this guy even come from anyway?" Bradley asked. "I mean, he just sort of came out of _nowhere _and just randomly decided to start murdering everybody in Gotham."

"People have motivations, you know, Bradley," I explained. "He may have come out of nowhere, but he must have a reason for starting all this. Or maybe he _is _just…_crazy_."

"If someone doesn't get rid of him soon, _so many _people are gonna die," Bradley said, his voice flooding with worry. "I mean, I feel sorry for Chase, he can't even see his mom while all this is happening because she's in hospital having a…what is she having again?"

"A kidney transplant," I confirmed.

"That's the one," Bradley said. "It least I know _my _mom and dad are safe." I rolled my eyes at the mention of them. "I can't begin to _imagine _what Chase is going through right now."

Then a loud vibration rang from the arm of the sofa, and I glanced over to my phone that was jumping on the leather.

"Oh God, what now?" I demanded, reaching over to my phone. I opened it up and groaned when I saw the caller's name. "Speak of the devil," I muttered, standing up.

"Who is it?" Bradley asked.

"It's Chase," I answered, leaving the room and into Bradley's kitchen area. I answered the tedious call. "Hello?"

"Hi, Shaylee." Chase's voice sounded majorly high-pitched for his usual baritone voice. That was because it was being distorted by his weeping. "Oh my God, Shaylee…"

My heart skipped a beat.

For once, I started to panic.

"Chase, what's wrong?" I asked, seriously.

"Didn't…didn't you see the news just now?" he whimpered. "Did…did you hear The Joker's phone call on the news? Did you not…?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," I said, calmly. "I _was _watching it, but missed the end because Bradley muted it. What's going on? What did he say?"

"He…he…" Chase cried quietly a little more.

"Chase, _tell me_."

"He's…he's threatened to blow up a hospital."

My eyes widened. "You _what_?"

"He's going to blow the hospital..."

"Oh. Oh…then…why are you _surprised_?"

"Shaylee! My _mom's _in Gotham General Hospital! What is he blows _that one _up?"

I gasped softly.

"Oh my god…yes…of _course _she' in there."

"What am I gonna _do_?"

"Okay, okay, Chase, look, it's gonna be okay. You so know they're gonna get all the patients and staff out of _every _hospital in Gotham before The Joker arrives at the scene and blows one of 'em to kingdom come?"

"I fucking hope they do!"

"Chase, the good little people in the hospital won't let those people die. They'll get them all out, you wait and see."

"Shay…I…I can't ignore it. I just _can't_…I have to go down there."

"Well, if you want to see your mom you better get on a bus to the City now before The Joker comes to blow it up."

"Shaylee…wait…"

I sighed. "What? I told you, it'll be _fine_…she'll be _fine_."

"No, I…I was just wondering…"

"What now?"

"Look, I know we're not together anymore–"

"Took you while to realise that."

"Hang on a minute! Look, I know that, but we're still friends, aren't we?"

"Yes," I sighed, rolling my eyes again.

"Oh for god's sake, look, I just _need _you to come down with me."

"What?"

"I can't go on my own."

"Why _not_?"

"Just…_because_…"

"If this is a way to try and fuck me again I'm not in the mood today…"

"No, Shaylee, I swear. I just want you to come with me to make sure she's safe. That's all I'm asking you to do."

I exhaled deeply and tapped my foot while I thought about it for a while. I _did _need fresh air, I guess. But then I thought, maybe this was a perfect opportunity, to finally get a taste of some of dad's…The Joker's action. Maybe he would even _spot me _out and about.

Look, I'm not insane for wanting to see this, I just hadn't had much action for _ages_, and I mean for an awful long time. I hadn't committed a crime in months. My fingers were scratchy because I hadn't held a gun in a while. It was like I'd lost a limb. I couldn't resist to experience what every other _normal_ person in Gotham City was going through at that moment.

Well, I wasn't really normal, was I?

"Okay…okay I'll come," I reluctantly agreed.

"You _will_?" he gasped, sounding genuinely grateful.

I finally managed a kind smile.

"Yeah, I don't see why not," I said, composed. "I'll meet you at the bus station in half an hour. Okay?"

"Oh, Shaylee, thank you so much," he squeaked.

"You're…you're welcome, baby," I cooed.

"Baby?" he repeated.

I slapped my hand across my mouth and my words were soon fumbling around my mouth.

"Sorry!" I spluttered. "I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"No, no…it's okay," he said.

There was a pause of what seemed like awful heartbreak. I stared into space for ages, briefly recalling the days I called him 'baby.'

"Okay, well, see you in a bit, then," I mumbled.

"Yeah…yeah," he replied, awkwardly.

"And Chase?"

"Yeah?"

"It'll be okay, you know. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

After I ended the call I instantly slipped into my high-heeled boots (ones like Jane Price's) and slipped on my deep purple jacket, to cover my ugly scar on my left shoulder that ran down slightly onto my arm.

I popped my head round to Bradley again, who was just sat there, chewing his fingernails and staring blankly at the floor. His face had gone sheet-white.

"Bradley?" I called.

He stirred a little and smiled at me.

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"I'm going to meet Chase, okay?"

"What? Really?"

"Yes."

"With the City how it is at the moment?"

"Oh, you _worry _too much. I'll be fine."

"Is meeting your ex really a good idea?"

"So what? We're still _friends_, it's not like something's gonna happen. What do you think I am, some sort of slut?"

Bradley winced slightly. "N-No," he muttered.

"Good. See you later."

Before I headed out, I rushed upstairs to my flat, grabbed my keys and shoved them in my handbag, along with a little knife I'd managed to have bought as all my other weaponry had been confiscated from me by the police for some _odd _reason. This knife was new, I'd managed to get it from a drunk guy I bumped into in a nightclub who had the cheek to try and sleep with me just because I was wearing black tight shorts at the time. I did, but only if he wore a condom and gave me his knife in return, which he surprisingly did. So there you go, I'm a little manipulator too, aren't I? Hey, dad always said I could use men to my advantage. I _was _single after all.

Chase met me at the station, looking hot and flustered when he came off the Gotham Town bus. We shared an awkward 'hi' before he immediately dragged me to a cab, but I had to pay for them to take us to Gotham General Hospital, where Julia was having her operation. The cab driver stared at us questionably when we decided to go there, but Chase explained what our purpose was, however he still seemed uncertain. Nevertheless, he practically speeded us through the distressful streets to get us to the hospital ASAP. Chase's natural dark fringe covered his face that gazed out of window, away from me for the entire journey, but for some reason, I couldn't stop staring at him. He looked so beautiful, even though his face was white with worry. I couldn't help but squeeze his shaking hand, as I'd wanted to hold it again for so long. He surprisingly complied, squeezing mine back, but he still didn't look at me. It was a good job. If he did, I would probably start to feel the water spout out from my eyes again, and I _hated _crying more than ever.

When we finally arrived, Chase immediately dashed out of the cab, dragging me along with him, not bothering to shut the door behind us. Panting hard, we sprinted towards the car park of the hospital (as we'd been dropped off round the back, away from the action). I was still holding Chase's hand when we stopped and saw that the car park was loaded with school buses, and hundreds of patients were being filed out of the entrance in stretchers and wheelchairs, then each being safely put into a school bus to be taken away. They were obviously not as stupid as I thought, of course they were aware of The Joker's warning and were getting everyone out before they were blown to pieces. Chase finally glanced at me for half a second, before pulling me with him up to the action, where several cops were dotted around, making sure everyone was 'safe'.

We were amongst the crowd and Chase was frantically asked everybody, "Have you seen Julia Delancey?" while I just curiously gazed around me. It was complete madness, everyone running around and yelling commands at each other.

It took a while to sink in that this was actually my dad's doing. Dad had lost his mind so rapidly he was causing so much grief and stress among everyone and everywhere.

We continued running through the commotion until Chase was restrained by a cop we started being pushed away through all the busyness occurring.

"Hey! Let go of me!" Chase shouted at the cop.

"I'm sorry, young man, but we must ask you to step back, and you, young lady," he said, sounding guilty. "We're very busy here and we must get all the patients to safety as quickly as possible and we just can't have any disturbance."

"Disturbance?" Chase scoffed, pulling away. "I'll have you know, my mom is one of these patients and I can't just leave her! Please, officer, let me see her!"

"We understand that, but we must get them all out first," he explained. "Our District Attorney is in there too after his severe industry last night…"

"Oh for God's sake," I muttered under my breath.

"I don't care!" Chase cried. "I want to see my mom! She's having a kidney transplant that for some reason we didn't know she needed until…what? A few months ago? She's not well, I just need to see her! Please!"

"I'm sorry, pal, but we can't just yet," the cop said, still trying to push us away from the car park.

"No!" Chase yelled.

"For fuck's sake, officer!" I exclaimed, coming to Chase's defence. "That's his mom! Can't he just see her for two minutes? Surely you must know where she is?"

"Look, you two, if you stay here with me, and when we know that we have all the patients out safely, I'll take you to see your mother," the cop said.

"This is ridiculous," Chase murmured.

"I'm sorry, but there's not much we can do." He then glanced over his shoulder as a patient was being pulled past him on a stretcher into a bus, close on our right. The man pushing it was struggling to get it into the bus. "You need any help, Dan?" he asked.

"Yes, just to put him in here," he answered.

"Okay, hang on." He then looked sternly at me and Chase. "Do not move," he instructed.

The cop went to help the other guy, and I instantly glanced up at Chase, full of hope he would actually break a rule for once. He looked at me smiling at him, and a smirk appeared on his face.

"Fuck that," he mouthed, and grabbed my hand again.

I laughed as Chase pulled me away through the bustling crowd, and he started chuckling, too.

"Hey!" we heard the cop yell behind us.

"Where is she?" I asked Chase, ignoring the interference behind us.

"I don't know, I don't _know_," he replied, anxiously looking around. "Mom!" he called. "_Mom_!"

"Julia!" I shouted.

We continued running and swiftly making our way through, attempting to avoid being restrained again. We searched high and low, peering through the windows on the bus and at every corner. It was after a few moments I looked behind my shoulder to the hospital's entrance, where I saw another stretcher being quickly hauled down the stairs. I squinted my eyes to look closer, where I saw a dark haired middle-aged woman lying on the bed. Her terrified facial expression was identical to Chase's.

"Chase!" I cried, tugging his shirt. "Look!" He darted around and looked to where I was vigorously pointing. "There she is!"

Chase's eyes widened as a gradual smile of relief spread across his beautiful face. He sighed happily and started running over, as I followed closely behind him.

"Mom!" he called. "_Mom_!"

He had now joined Julia, and walked along with her bed as she was being pushed towards one of the buses.

"Chase!" she cried. "Oh my god!" I then had joined Chase and started walking at full speed beside him. The people pushing Julia out didn't seem to be bothered about us being there. Julia did, however. "Shaylee?!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I asked her to come with me, mom, it's okay," Chase explained, calmly. "Oh god, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes…I…I'm feeling fine, I'm just…"

"Mom, don't be scared…"

"Chase, this hospital is about to be blown up by a psychopath who could show up at any minute! You think I'm not scared? You shouldn't be here."

Chase took her hand.

"Mom, I don't care, I couldn't just leave you," he said, determinedly. "And how do you know it's gonna be _this _hospital, anyway?"

"Because Harvey Dent is in there, and that's probably who he wants." She whimpered and I saw her squeeze her son's hand. "Oh Chase, you are silly. I'm so glad to see you, but…get out of here! It's not safe!"

"I don't care!"

"You will care in a minute if you get killed!"

"Mom, I…I wanted to see if you were okay."

"Chase, we're _all _going to be put to safety. I'll be fine."

"I did tell him this, Julia," I cut in.

"I don't even know why _you're _here," Julia snapped at me. "Why would you be interested in how _I _am?"

"Oh, charming," I scoffed.

"Mom, stop it," Chase said. "_I'm_ here."

"Excuse me, young man, we're going to have to ask you to leave," one of the cops pushing mom said. "We have to take your mother into this bus now for safety. And you can leave as well, miss."

"Why does _everyone _have a problem with me?!" I demanded.

"Don't I even get to stay with her for a bit?" Chase asked, desperately. "Please…"

"I'm sorry, we're trying to keep as many citizens safe as possible," the cop said, beginning to lift Julia's stretcher into the bus we'd reached. "Get out of here for your own safety, both of you."

"But–" Chase stuttered.

"He's right, Chase," Julia said. "Get out of here and save yourself."

"Mom, I'm not leaving you!" he insisted.

"We promise her the best safety you could imagine," the cop said.

I felt a tint of laughter tickle the back of throat from the comment, but I desperately tried to hold it back.

"Chase…go," Julia whispered. "I'm going to be alright. The more time we spend here talking the sooner The Joker's going to arrive and explode the hospital. Save yourself, son."

Chase sighed shakily, as I remained there with my arms folded, trying not to laugh at the cop's comment about safety. It was just the fact the safety in the City hadn't been _that _successful in the past few days, had they?

Chase kissed his mom on the cheek and she returned his with a kiss on his head.

"Okay," he finally said. "But you _have _to promise me!"

"We promise," they insisted.

"Chase, go," Julia said. Tears were now falling down her face.

Chase leaned down and gave her a tight hug.

"I love you so much, mom," he whispered.

"I love you, too, son," she said. "Now get out of here."

Chase took my hand again, much to my surprise.

"Let's go, Shay," he said, leading me away. We walked as fast as we could out of the action, where I heard the name Harvey Dent at least three times. All I could think was, if he was so goddamn important why didn't they just bring him out first? As we walked out of the gate and back to the cab place, I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder from the gradual disappearing commotion. "Shay, what are you doing?" Chase asked.

"I…I was just thinking…" I began.

"What?"

"I _really _need to go to the centre and get myself some new threads. Why don't you go home by yourself? I've got money for a cab later."

"What? Shaylee, are you mad?"

"No."

"It's dangerous out there at the moment, all the shops are practically closed, anyway, now _come on_."

"There must be _somewhere _open. There must a thrift shop open at least."

"Shaylee, we have to get out of here."

"Oh Chase, come on! We're so far away from the hospital now, we can't possibly be killed by it _this _far away, can we?"

"No, but you never know what The Joker…your _dad_…is going to do next, do you? For all you know he could parade through the Centre and you could get yourself killed."

"Chase, I won't."

He groaned loudly, flopping his hand out of mine and making us both halt in our tracks.

"Fine," he moaned. "Go and do that, go and put your life at risk!"

"Okay. I will," I replied, blankly. "I've got nothing _better _to do, have I? I have a mental illness, remember, honey? My life is at risk _every day_."

"You're crazy!" Chase cried.

"No, I'm not."

"No, shut up a minute. You didn't even seem to care about what my mom's going through right now! What _I'm _going through? Do you understand how _mad _I am right now? I barely saw her! And _don't _call me 'honey', Shaylee." He paused, shaking his head at me. "She was right, you _have _changed, and it's not just due to your illness, you just _have_. For a minute there, when you took my hand in the cab, I thought I saw _my _Shaylee again, the girl I fell in love with! I thought maybe there _is _a chance I could take you back, but you know what? There's _no way _I could take you back now, because you've just turned into this selfish bitch who unbelievably thinks her daddy is _still _some kind of God even though he's now this unfeeling monster who–"

That's when I hit him hard across the face. I was sure lucky no one was around at that moment.

"Why do you have to bring my dad into everything?" I questioned, calmly. "And I'll have you know, Chase, I'm _not _selfish. Are you some sort of idiot? Do you not even realise I _am _still in love with you? Of _course _I am! You were the first boy I ever loved, probably will _ever _love. It kills me every day knowing you dumped me over…_whatever_. I won't stand here and say I was a perfect girlfriend, because I wasn't. I _can't _be perfect…I _hated _myself for what I put you through, I've told you this! I know there's things wrong with me, and I thought you were actually the first person to see past all of that! To see past it and just love me for who I am. But no, you turned out to be just like everyone else, didn't you? And you know what Chase? I'll _always _hope you'll one day be like that again, but if you want me to continue going off the rails, then continue _being _the way you are because I don't care anymore. If you want to even _try _and stop me from following my mind, you know where I am to try again. It's up to you."

Chase was looking almost guilty now. I saw his eyes were watering, but it didn't make me sympathetic. I continued to glare at him with my arms folded. He did his usual thing of shuffling his feet before I finally just walked away from him, looking down at the grey concrete and making my way up to the City Centre, not far away from the hospital.

Even though it was a warm day, and I was doubly hot because of my thick jacket, I still hugged myself around my arms. Not because I was cold, just to comfort myself. Because no one ever did anymore. I was furious when I felt a tear roll down my face, so I quickly flicked it away and pretended I didn't care, as always.

I'd lied to Chase about wanting to buy some clothes. What I actually wanted to do was a get a good view of the hospital so I could see it explode before my very eyes. Like I said, I'd wanted my eyes to view some of the action for days...for _months_...and now I was out of the flat, I saw this as the perfect opportunity to finally witness something. Of course, that was presuming it _would _happen, I mean, The Joker only threatened to blow it up if some man wasn't dead within an hour, according to Chase. Plus, it had to be that _exact _hospital that was going to be his target, but I greatly presumed it would be. It had been at least forty-five minutes since I'd left the flat to meet Chase. Time was going so _slowly_.

I had to climb what seemed like an endless amount of stairs to get to the top of where the end of the Centre (the stairs led back down to bus station and cab streets among the busy streets). There was a small bench that looked out into the skyscrapers, and way out into the distance, I could spot the General Hospital just clearly enough from it. To my disappointment, there was a frigid little old lady sat on the bench munching on some tuna sandwiches. I just couldn't let that put me off, so I reluctantly sat down next to her, placing my handbag beside me. I smiled kindly at her, but she didn't seem put off by me, and to my shock actually smiled back at me.

Nothing was said for a few moments, but I couldn't help myself having a little bit of fun with her.

"Beautiful day, huh?" I said to her, brightly.

"Makes a change, doesn't it?" she replied, moodily.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

She looked at me curiously. She'd obviously noticed my overdone eyeliner had been dripping slightly.

"Are you okay, dear?" she asked.

"Yeah! Yeah I'm fine," I answered.

"You look like you've been crying," she said.

"What?" I gently touched underneath my eyes. "Oh no, no…I'm okay."

"That's a lot of black you have around your eyes, young lady," she laughed.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "It's what I'm into. I've always been into gothic makeup, you know, gothic looks. Anything goth, really."

"I can see that." There were a few moments of silence as she put away her litter in her handbag so slowly it was almost painful to watch. Once she'd done, she sighed heavily and looked back at me, who raised my eyebrows at her. "Isn't it awful what's happening at the moment?" she said. "I mean, all these innocent lives."

I smirked. "Yeah…it's just _terrible_."

"This horrible man just killing everyone. Who does he think he is?"

"There must be a reason he's doing it, though."

"Maybe so, but there's obviously something _wrong _with the man. Seriously wrong."

"Oh I _know_. Did you hear what he's going to do today?"

"What's that, love? I didn't watch the news this morning."

"He's going to blow up _that _hospital," I explained, pointing to it in the distance. I then leaned in closer to her and grinned widely at the thought of the wonderful mess it would make. "To kingdom come," I added.

"Oh, how _awful_!" she cried. "The patients! They must be…"

"Oh, don't worry, they've brought them all out to safety," I said, still grinning. "Including Harvey Dent."

"Oh thank goodness for that," she sighed. "We don't want the White Knight to be killed, do we?"

"I think he may have already _fallen_," I sighed. "Poor guy." She then stared at me in disgust, but I continued to smile at her wrinkled face to ensure her I wasn't crazy. I looked at my watch. "Come on, come on…" I muttered. "It _must _have been an hour by now."

"What do you mean?" the old lady asked.

"Apparently he said he was going to blow it up in an hour's time unless this guy had been killed," I explained. "I don't know who, though. Must be somebody important."

She then darted her elderly eyes at me in shock, and began to stand up, placing her bag over shoulder.

"You seem very happy about all of this," she said, sounding nervous.

"Oh, I'm really _not_," I lied. "I'm just telling you what _happened_."

"Well, I suggest young lady, like me, you get out of here before anything else happens around this part," she warned.

She then plodded away as quickly as she could. I chuckled under my breath, looking back out into the distance at the hospital, which was still all in one piece.

"You're the one who came out into the Centre in the first place, love," I giggled to myself. "And I'm not going anywhere, thank you."

I waited anxiously for something to happen, chewing on my black-painted nails as I waited. I kept glancing at my watch. An hour had _gone_.

Then, right on cue, I could just witness it right there in the distance, the hospital was spouting out small explosions from its windows, instantly smashing and destroying the fine glass. It got bigger and bigger, and people strolling past stopped and stared, some of them clung onto each other and screamed, pointing frantically at the 'catastrophe' in the coldness.

I sat there open-mouthed and leaned forward, as I continued watching this…beauty.

Until suddenly, it just stopped. The building stood still, hanging loose, with nothing more exploding off it for a few minutes.

"Why has it stopped?" I asked myself, gazing before me, curiously. I even looked around me for answers, but nothing happened for a while. "What are you _doing_?" I questioned again.

Literally about two seconds after I'd muttered that question, I stapled myself back onto the bench in surprise as I finally saw another little explosion bounce off the building's roof, until it all just went out of control. It burst into gigantic flames, the windows smashing and the building came tumbling down to the ground, in a beautiful swirl of grey smoke with orange and crimson infernos, until it just exploded with one last bang that filled my ears even from such a distance.

I just took in the mess that dad…I mean The Joker had just done. Everyone around me began dashing around, yelling out cries of help and hiding themselves in shops to take cover. I just sat there very still, engulfing everything I'd just seen before my eyes. This may sound atrocious, but the explosion was so overwhelming I just quietly exclaimed, "Whoa…" and I couldn't blink for at least five minutes.

I found myself smirking after a while. I just couldn't help myself. It was brilliant. My head had started reeling because of the noise, and they were telling me to take it all in because it's what _dad _would have wanted. Maybe so. But it's more what _The Joker _wants, not dad.

After a while, I very tensely rose to my feet, picking up my purple handbag and started walking upwards into the shopping centre, where I decided to buy something for myself after all. I walked very cautiously, taking my time to realise what I'd just seen. I felt very peculiar, I had butterflies of wonder swarming inside my stomach and my head was banging so loud I could barely hear myself think, but I was so used to this by now, I didn't even tell them to shut up. I allowed them to drain my brain out, because it didn't stop me from taking in the explosion.

I made my way into a thrift shop, as I only had enough to money to buy cheap clothes. It was like a tomb when I entered, completely empty apart from the cashier and I couldn't hear a sound apart from my head. I peered into the bargain bin and rummaged through it for a while, until I found the most unusual things buried at the bottom. In my hands I pulled out a pair of purple long gloves, like the ones that posh people in olden times would use for a ball. I stroked the silky material carefully, totally in awe of gorgeous purple material.

It suddenly sparked my mind: this would be a _perfect _thing to add to Jane Price's design. If Moskins was going to humiliate her by making her wear a tiara, then what was to stop him from making her dress up in princess-esque silky elbow-length gloves? And of course, creating the character I _had _to invest my mind in it completely (as I was becoming so obsessed with writing it). So I bought the gloves and the cashier only charged me $1 for them. They were surprisingly comfortable as I slipped them on, walking back to the cab area.

I was happy to discover that I had to barge my way past so many people on my way back to the street lined with cabs waiting to go. _So _many people wanted to get away from all the chaos The Joker was creating, it took me at least an hour for me to _finally _get a cab for myself, as I had to wait and wait for there to be a free one. All I could think was: what a bunch of silly little citizens, all running away like little cowards instead of trying to help. Oh but wait, they _can't _help because that's the police, Batman and Dent's job. Well, it wouldn't be Dent's job anymore.

"Chestnut Avenue, please, and be quick about it," I ordered once I climbed into the cab.

"Alright love, keep ya hair on," he said, beginning to drive away.

"Been waiting there _ages_," I complained. "So many people wanna get to the bus station why can't they just walk there? I just wanna get back to my flat, for fuck's sake."

"Well it is pretty dangerous out here at the moment, love," the cab driver said. "I'm not surprised they wanna get out of here, what with this loony roaming around."

"Yeah…" I leaned in closer on my seat and smiled at him through his head mirror. "Must be _so _patronising for _you_, knowing you could _die _every day while just _driving _your cab, eh, darling?"

"Well luckily, I don't go around the busiest parts where all the commotion appears to be happening," he stuttered. "But, yeah, I can't wait until the cops catch this maniac and throw him away where he belongs."

"They already did, didn't they? The other night. But he escaped and blew up the hospital just now."

"Yeah, I heard."

I sat back again and sighed heavily.

"Such a shame no one can _negotiate _with a psycho like that," I laughed. "I mean, he's obviously had a _terrible _past."

"You're telling me."

I continued staring at him, and he couldn't help but stare at me through his head mirror occasionally. I couldn't help but smirk at his nervous expression.

"Are we there yet?" I demanded after a while, still grinning at him.

"Not long now, love, be patient," he said. "These streets are so goddamn busy at the moment, I'm trying to find some shortcuts to get past all this stupid traffic jams in the City. It's crazy."

"Yeah, you're telling me it's crazy," I laughed. "In a weird kinda way, it's sort of nice to see all the citizens out and about in fresh air for once instead of them sitting at home on their asses complaining and doing nothing while so many poor people have to find a way to provide for themselves in this stupid City. Even if they _are _getting fresh air from panicking and demanding the pitiful cops _do something_."

He didn't say anything, and ran my tongue through my lips in a large grin because I knew I'd got him to actually think about what I just said. This continued until he finally dropped me off at the end of my street and slowly turned his head to talk to me.

"That's $10, please, love," he said.

"What?" I inquired.

"$10," he repeated.

I panicked as I rummaged through my bag and got out my purse. I only managed to find $8.35 in my purse.

"Oh, shit," I whispered, hoarsely.

"What?" he asked.

"I only have $8," I said.

"Oh, just give me what you have, it's close enough," he sighed. "Come on, I haven't got all day I need to get through all this traffic."

"Alright, alright, chill, old man," I laughed as I handed him all the cash I had left. "Thanks for that."

"No problem, now get out," he barked.

"Alright, fucking hell." I climbed out of the cab and as soon as I slammed the door hard he sped off. "Fuck me, he was rude," I chuckled. "What does he think I am, some sort of madwoman?" I laughed loudly as I skipped back down the street and reached mine and Bradley's flats. I entered the hallway, still laughing happily. "_Bradley_!" I called, enthusiastically. His kitchen door was wide open, and soon Lucky came trotting through the hallway, wagging her tail up to me. For once, I felt calm around a dog, as I cautiously scratched behind her floppy ears. "Hiya, girl," I cooed. "Hey there, you gorgeous baby mama."

"Shaylee?" Bradley called from the kitchen.

"Hey, Bradders!" I cried.

"Come in here a minute," he said.

I led Lucky into the kitchen with me where I found Bradley eating a banana at his kitchen table with the TV blaring.

"What you watching?" I asked, coming up behind him.

"Ah, just some shitty action movie," he replied. "Anyway, I named all the puppies, just so you know."

"Ooh, what?"

"Well, Ace…"

"The Second," I cut in.

"Ace the _Second_," Bradley continued, "Buster and Rosie."

"Aww, cute," I said, even though I wasn't that interested. "Anyway, I will be in the comfy room upstairs if you want me," I informed, starting to make my way out of the room.

"Hang on," Bradley said, making me stop and turn around. "Don't you want anything to eat?"

"Ahhh…not right now," I replied. "Wouldn't mind a cup of coffee, though."

"Consider it done."

I glanced curiously back at the cocker spaniel puppies, who were fast asleep in Lucky's large basket. I couldn't help but smile at their cute and innocent fluffy faces.

"Which one's Ace the Second?" I asked Bradley, who had now started putting the kettle on.

"The little on in the middle," he answered.

"He's so…cute," I giggled. I kneeled down in front of the basket and delicately stroked Ace's head, who didn't move a muscle. "I want him," I squeaked.

"Do you really?" Bradley asked. "I thought you didn't like dogs much."

"I don't usually, but I think this little one could change my mind."

"You can keep him, if you want," Bradley said.

I perked my head up at him.

"_Can I_?" I asked, like a spoiled little girl.

"Sure, if you want. I could give you dog food and his leash and you can have him, but he'll be your responsibility, Shaylee."

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "You really mean this?"

"It'll give me one less to look after," he laughed.

I looked back down at the sleeping puppies and very carefully I picked little Ace the Second up in my arms, who awoke, but like he was a human baby, fluttered his eyes open and stirred slightly in my arms but didn't start barking.

"Hello, little Ace," I giggled. "Come on, I'll look after you now." I glanced back at Bradley, who was still making my coffee. "Bradley, what about the leash and other things I'll need for him?"

"I'll bring them up later if you want," he mumbled. "Along with this coffee."

I beamed and happily made my way back up to my own flat, where I lay Ace the Second on the end of mine and Chase's bed, where he quickly went sound asleep again.

I immediately rushed into the sitting room, and brought out my new purple gloves from my bag and slipped them onto my fingers, and they were so comfortable I actually decided to write in them. I always left that silly plastic tiara in that room, as sort of a 'thinking cap' when I began writing, and so I slapped that onto my head to get into character.

I instantly knew what I was going to write about:

_Moskins pulled fragile Jane back into his darkened bedroom, where he threw her beautiful face onto the wooden floor. Jane heard the bedroom door being slammed shut and then before she knew it her head was forcefully moved into Moskins's hideous lustful expression. She tried not to whimper, but she still struggled away, but she was firmly pinned up against the large double bed by her wrists._

_'Now, listen to me,' he said, coldly. 'You know very well you failed me today, didn't you, little princess, huh?'_

_'No!' Jane cried. 'I didn't! I did exactly as you said and stole that money for you.'_

_'Maybe so, Price, but I asked you to get me enough to pay to my cocaine dealer, did I not? A measly $100 isn't enough, I'm afraid, sweetheart.'_

_'Don't call me that!' Jane hissed. 'And how was I supposed to know how much I needed? I don't buy cocaine, do I?!'_

_Jane gasped when she felt his large hand grab her by the throat, making her splutter and the reluctant tears start to fall down her face._

_'You shut your potty mouth, Princess Jane,' he ordered. 'Listen to me. Tomorrow I plan to blow up a hospital as uh…a little **warning**.'_

_'What?!' Jane spluttered. 'Why would you do **that**, you heartless bastard?!'_

_'Because, Price…why not? And you're going to help me.'_

_'I'll die first.'_

_Moskins let her go, and she collapsed onto the floor, before she was kicked in the side, making her roll onto her back. The monster above her looked down on his little thug, and in his hand he suddenly dangled down a long material of purple silk…_

"Here you are, Shaylee."

Bradley had come into the room, carrying a mug of coffee in his hand, with a leash dangling on his arm and cans of dog food in his other hand. He stared at me when he was me in my strange new accessories.

"Oh, thank you," I said, brightly, trying to ignore the fact I'd just been busted writing my story, half dressed as the main character.

Bradley slowly put the things next to me, as I put the pad close to my chest so he couldn't witness the best-selling novel yet.

"What is this, Shay? Princess dress up?" Bradley laughed, making his way back to the door.

"You like it, Bradley?" I asked, giggling. "Got these gloves today for a dollar. Thought they were cute."

"You're mad, you are," Bradley chuckled. "Anyway, there's the stuff, I'll be downstairs if you need me."

I didn't answer him, and as soon as he was out of sight, I continued until my arm ached:

_'W-What's that?' Jane stammered._

_'Just another little accessory for the little princess of England,' Moskins chuckled, throwing a pair of purple elbow-length gloves down onto her face. Jane sat up, carefully and stared at them in her hands. 'Put them on,' Moskins instructed._

_'W-Why?' Jane asked._

_'Just put them on!' he yelled. Jane didn't need to be told again, and she shakily slipped into the purple gloves. 'Ahh, now every princess used to wear them for the ball,' Moskins laughed. _

_'I'm the farthest descendant from royalty you could ever imagine!' Jane shouted. 'That doesn't make me–'_

_'Shut up, you delusional whore!' he roared, slapping her across the face, making her face slam against the ground again. 'Now, Jane, put on your crown and get some beauty sleep for tomorrow we have a little explosion to make. Oh and those clothes hanging up for you? I spent all my money on buying you those, so be grateful and wear them, you little brat, understand?'_

_'Yes, sir,' Jane sighed, unhappily. _

_'There's a good girl.' Moskins made his way out of the room, but before helpless Jane could move, he whirled around and glared at the sixteen year old again. 'Oh and don't think I'm stupid, Princess Jane. I know today you didn't arm yourself with a gun. Tomorrow I shall force you to have one, are we clear?'_

_'Yes, master,' she mumbled._

_'Good. Now goodnight!'_

_He slammed the door and allowed the humiliated Jane to be alone in the darkness. Just how he wanted it._

That night seemed to last an eternity, and I stayed up in my bedroom until early hours of the morning, playing with Ace the Second as Bradley gave me some of his toys as well. I dressed myself up and laughed along with my head as it kept reminding me that dad _was _alive and I had proven everyone who doubted me wrong.

As usual, I couldn't control myself, but this time, not from anger, but from laughter. I wasn't sure how it happened, but of course my stupid head started talking to me, and then it started drowning out my mind in that infectious laughter. I started dancing around the bedroom all night, blasting out my heavy metal melodies from my phone and squealing and jumping around for no apparent reason. I saw partisan flames bursting around which just reminded me of the amazing explosion I had witnessed, making me laugh like a maniac, but I couldn't control my laughter for some odd reason. I just kept laughing as my mind grew louder and started playing tricks on me until I couldn't hear myself think.

Bradley was so used to this by now he didn't even come up to tell me to keep it down. Of course I tried cut it out by the time Bradley went to bed, though. Little Ace kept barking in confusion, but he soon relaxed when I scratched him behind his little fluffy ears. He grew on me, and he even started to love me, too, licking my hand when I stroked him like a Bond villain, which just made me giggle harder.

Once Bradley had gone to bed, I managed to relax on the bed with my feet up and conjured up new plot lines for Jane, even starting to write her in her craziest form, when she gladly did all these horrific things for Moskins because he offered her money in return. Doing this made all the madness calm down, but my mind was reeling and reeling with ideas, getting interrupted with the voices arguing with each other, which I tried my best to ignore, but it did make my eyes twitch lazily. I had to go into the bathroom and wash my face in freezing water to relax myself, and to make myself calm before I got myself ready for bed. Seeing all these flames and explosions made me trip up over nothing, and the voices attempted to get me frustrated, but I didn't. Over the two years without dad's loving comfort, I'd learnt to at least _try _and calm myself and make them go away.

I nestled into my dreams, while Ace the Second did the same on the end of my bed.

_Glad you're having a good time Shaylee, but remember, you're dad still hasn't come to find you. All he is now is a terrorist, a misery-maker._

"Shut up," I whispered sharply. "It doesn't matter, he's still alive. I'll catch him at some point."

_But now he's a psy-co-path. He'll surely kill you._

"No he won't. Go away. We've had our fun, now let me sleep you little cunt. I'm sick of this…"

_You're the one who's sick._

"No!"

_Mentally sick, that is._

"I know I am, but that doesn't make me a monster."

_Look what happened to your beloved father, all he is now is a murderous wretch._

"Shut up! No!"

_He's a worthless piece of scum ready to kill._

I groaned loudly and buried my head into my pillow, covering up my ears. This is what I hated most about being a schizoid. One minute you're laughing, the next minute they're stabbing an agonising pain in your heart, drowning out your head with horrid thoughts, making you believe _lies_.

They continued repeating those words: _Worthless, scum, kill, sick, psycho_.

I started screaming into my pillow, cursing and making everything back by slamming my eyes shut, not wanting to see red or anymore hallucinations. I grabbed my red-coloured hair and ran my fingers through it as they continued whispering raucously at me. I didn't want to believe _any of it_. Not anymore.

I can't tell you how much I despise it.

It eventually died down when I went and banged my head against the bathroom floor, where I washed my face again. Once again, I saw a tiny smudge of white on my forehead which turned out to be imagination. I saw things blowing up all around me, even the noises were coming to life with it, but I didn't react to them. Before I washed my face and made myself calm, I just simply stared at myself in the mirror, and allowed the noises to take over my mind. Feeling the rush of adrenaline as I heard the eruptions and burning flames heat my skin up, even though it was all in my head. It may sound crazy, but it actually helped me to calm down.

I did manage to get some sleep in the end, after the stupid little whisper disappeared from my head, insisting dad was insane. Well, he was, in some ways, of course I'm not going to ignore that fact, but with all the maliciousness in my mind I tried and tried to keep on the positive, like I had been the past few days that Gotham City was flooded with chaos The Joker had created. I guessed it was because his mind was telling him, or just simply to show how dark and cruel this world really is, and how many idiots exist.

I woke up to a little nuzzle nudging my cheek and I writhed around in my bed as I felt a damp nose stroke my face. I giggled and fluttered my eyes open to little Ace the Second, who I just simply pushed away.

"Get off, ya silly mutt," I chuckled as I edged him away. He jumped down from the bed and trotted away to the door, and just obediently sat in front of it, gazing at it with his large brown puppy eyes. "Oh Ace, do you _really _have to do this to me now?" I groaned as I slumped out of my bedsheets. I walked heavily over to the door and opened it wide, where Ace immediately sprang onto his paws and like a firecracker dashed down the hallway and started running down the stairs. "Ace, come back!" I ordered, following him. He had made his way into Bradley's hallway where I managed to grab him, and he started viciously scratching my hand and trying to escape from my arms. Of course, a mere dog clawing didn't hurt me in the slightest. "Oh stop wriggling, Ace," I snapped.

"Shaylee, are you up?" I heard Bradley call from his sitting room.

"No, Bradley, I'm skydiving!" I laughed, sarcastically.

"Oh ha-ha, very funny," he mumbled. "Come in here, you won't _believe _it."

My smile faded as I felt my heart instantly pump up to double-speed.

"What? Why, what's happened?" I asked. My worst fear of them catching The Joker leaped into my mind. Ace continued trying to escape, so I eventually put him down, where he ventured into Bradley's kitchen, as the door had been left wide open. In my bare feet, I sauntered into the sitting room, where Bradley was sat on his sofa, not keeping his eyes of the flashing TV screen in front of him. I glanced up at the clock where I noticed I'd been asleep for so many hours, as it was 13:10pm. "Oh my god, is that the _time_?" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, you've been asleep _ages_," Bradley said, not looking up.

"I couldn't sleep for ages," I said.

"Why's that, Shay?"

"Uhh…had too many things on my mind. You know, with all this happening at the moment. I'm still tired. Anyway, what's up?" Bradley finally looked up at me and gestured me to sit down next to him, which I did. His face had turned so pale it almost looked unnatural. "What's the matter with you?" I questioned.

"You won't believe what's been on the news just now," he said, sounding bewildered.

"What?" I raised my eyebrows. "Has someone died or something?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Oh for God's sake, _that's _nothing new, is it? The Joker's killing people all the time."

"It wasn't The Joker this time, though," Bradley explained. "They actually don't know _how _he died."

"_Who_?"

Bradley sighed heavily. "Harvey Dent."

My heart missed a beat as I leaned in closer to be sure I wasn't hearing this again.

"Are you serious?" I whispered.

"Yeah, there's just been like a live news conference and Commissioner Gordon was talking about him."

"_Commissioner_? I thought he was a lieutenant?"

"He's the commissioner now, since he risked his own life trying to save the Mayor, you know the other day?"

"Ridiculous," I muttered.

"Excuse me?" Bradley questioned.

"How did Harvey Dent die, anyway?" I asked.

"They don't know."

"What you mean _they don't know_?"

"Well, someone suggested it could have been suicide since he was paralyzed and he lost his fiancée."

"What happened to The Joker?"

Bradley winced his eyes questionably at me. I wasn't interested in the Attorney, I wanted to know about The Joker. I wanted to know if my _father _was safe.

"Well, late last night apparently he placed two detonators on two of the boats," Bradley explained. "This is what it said on the news. The people on there were trying to leave Gotham because of all this happening and apparently The Joker tried a social experiment and threatened the blow them all up at midnight, unless one of them blew up the other. One was full of ordinary people, the other criminals…"

"Oh my god!" I cried. "_That _shows that even _ordinary_ people can be so cold-hearted that they would blow up a boat full of people they consider scum!"

"But that's the thing…they didn't."

"What? What do you mean they didn't? Of course they would do that."

"No, apparently, the Batman caught The Joker's location but none of boats were blown up because they both decided not to do it, but The Joker didn't even keep his word and blow them all up at midnight…"

"Oh my god the fucking Batman went and _ruined _it!" I yelled.

"What? No, actually, Shaylee, Batman _saved _us all," Bradley said.

"If it weren't for the Batman then The Joker would have kept his word!"

"Are you saying The Joker was right in what he was doing?" Bradley shouted.

"Well…._no_….but I guess he was trying to prove a point," I stated, calmly. "That eventually these citizens _would _do something like that."

"But he was proved _wrong_," Bradley said. "They caught him anyway, and apparently now he's been chucked away."

"_What_?!"

"He's been sent back to Arkham."

"_No_!"

Bradley backed away from me.

"Whoa, Shaylee…"

"So _now_ what's going to happen to him?!" I cried.

"He's where he belongs, in an _asylum_."

"_No_!" I screamed.

"Shaylee, what is wrong with you? Why are you getting hysterical about some psychopath getting thrown away? Are you _crazy_?"

"_No I'm not_! You don't understand, Bradley…" I sighed heavily to calm myself down. I gave myself time to think long and hard. "He's gonna escape again, you know," I recalled, nodding. "He'll just get out and come back again. Can they be _that _stupid? Of _course _he'll escape again!"

"Let's fucking hope not," Bradley murmured, rising to his feet. "You can't seriously want him to come back, Shay? He's a murderous psycho who makes people's lives a misery! Who knows? Maybe _he_ was responsible for killing Dent? He killed Rachel Dawes, didn't he _and _the Mayor?" He started walking out of the room. "I'm making breakfast," he said, in an obvious annoyed tone as he left the room.

I sat there very quiet for a few moments. I was trembling all over. I didn't want The Joker…_dad _to be chucked away in Arkham again.

"He makes people's lives a _misery_?" I mumbled to myself. "Hate to break it to you, Bradley, but _he's_ had a _miserable _life because of the people in this world so maybe he just wants to see _them _suffer? _I _should know. Don't people ever _consider _that? Oh…oh god." I put my face into my cupped hands. "_Please _be alright," I whispered into my hands. "I don't care if you come back only to murder, I just want you to be alright." I slowly glanced back the television. "But…you're going to get out, aren't you? You will. Surely they'll report it if you do."

It was then I decided to spend the entire day watching the news, just to see if they would report The Joker had escaped or at least _something _about him came up. Of course, all day they talked about the horrific incident regarding the boats, even interviewing someone who was on there. I found myself sniggering through the whole thing because she just sounded completely pathetic.

I sat and watched it in my kitchen for pretty much the whole day, as Bradley had been called in work to do extra time and basically work until 11 at night, which gave me peace and quiet. I didn't even get dressed or put any makeup on, not even picking up my pad to write some more of _Jane the Slave_. The only times I moved were to feed little Ace or to eat myself or to take a break in the bathroom, but I was just so desperate to hear he was alright. Being schizophrenic makes you paranoid, you know, so I can't _help _it. Of course, I was probably the only person in Gotham wanting to know about The Joker but I didn't care. He was my _father_. It didn't matter about the wonderful mess he'd caused, he was still my dad and I _knew _he was. It all made sense to me what he was doing and why he was doing it. I am his daughter, and I understand him. I didn't care if he was a psychopath, I didn't care if he was a maniac, he was my father and I wanted to know if he was safe. That's fair enough, isn't it?

I was starting to lose hope when nothing came up for the entire day. It was 10pm now, and there had been nothing, except recalling what he'd done the night before.

That was, until the male news anchor reported this into the camera:

"This just in, there have been reports from Arkham Asylum that The Joker collapsed this afternoon in his cell, shortly after his second interrogation this week, reportedly from a severe mental breakdown." I gasped in horror. "One of the nurses at Arkham, Janine Kelley has stated that The Joker collapsed this afternoon at 4:38pm and has been on conscious ever since. However, she claimed that his heartbeat was still present, but has since claimed that she believes this mental breakdown may have caused The Joker an extremely severe mental attack."

"_NO_!"

"We have yet to confirm of his current condition but Gotham can now know they are in safe hands as this terrorist who has cost us the lives of so many people in this past week will not be visiting our great City any time soon."

"No…." I felt a tear spout out of my eye. "No, no, no, no, no…" I found myself pacing up and down the room, my hands firmly on my head. "No, this…this just…_No_!" I helplessly fell to my knees. "Oh God…_please_…_please _don't report that he's dead! I _can't _listen to that again!" I sobbed into my hands.

_Get up and fight for what's right._

"Fuck _off_!" I yelled. "I can't be doing with you right now!"

_Shaylee, you must find out the truth._

"I _know _the truth!"

_But you must fight._

"What _for_?"

_Fight, fight…fight for your father_.

I lifted my heavy head up slowly, now allowing the voices to talk to me.

"How can I…how can I possibly fight?" I wept. "There's nothing worth fighting for now…I mean…this could be the end of everything…"

_Don't be worthless, Shaylee_.

"I'm _not _worthless!"

_Then fight_.

"What do you _mean_?" I demanded, clutching my head again. "What? Stop _giving _me false hope! No!"

_There is hope if you fight and find out what's really going on with your dad_.

"What's really going on?"

_He'd want you to be strong, not on your knees crying out for help that will never, ever, **ever **come_.

I removed my hands and just listened to them repeating the word 'fight' over and over again until it got louder. I looked around the room that was now doing somersaults, my eyelids twitched as they continued yelling at me.

"But if I'm going to go and find out if dad's _really _collapsed…then…I'll have to go to Arkham myself…" I breathed. "And…and…I just can't do that."

_Don't be such a wimp, you need to** fight**_.

"But…dad…oh dad you _can't have_…oh my God…"

Tears were streaming down my pale cheeks, but I wasn't even whimpering in the slightest.

I very slowly got to my feet and walked into the bedroom, where I casually sat down on the bed. They were still telling me to fight for what's right. The clothes I had hung up on my wardrobe, ready and waiting to be worn for the next day caught my eye. I then glanced at my side table where mom and dad's picture was still smiling kindly at me. I looked back the clothes: my purple jacket that dad had got me (which still amazingly fit me because of my small size), my purple crop top with a golden crown shape on it, my black short skirt, the sluttiest black tights you could imagine that had ripped holes purposely in them, and of course my black high heeled knee-length boots. It was an awful lot like the clothes I had designed for Jane Price, especially the purple jacket.

I grabbed the picture of mom and dad and stroked dad's smiling face, but it didn't make me smile. My tears splashed onto it.

"What would you want me to do, daddy?" I asked it.

My mind suddenly got louder: _Don't just sit there and question it, **do **it!_

"Do what?" I said, blankly.

_Do it, do it…go find him_.

"Find him? I _can't_…" I then looked back at the photo. "Dad, I know you've gone mad, but…I can't just ignore you anymore. I…_want _to find you and make sure you're not…dead…but…surely I can't go in Arkham all by myself and just try and find you, can I?" My head started filling up with the sounds of screaming. This time, they weren't the usual screams of mom…they were dad's screams. The screams I had heard as a child when he had a nervous breakdown. The more and more I started thinking about dad in pain, the louder his screams got. They just exploded in my mind, making me drop the picture and flop down onto the bed, my head buried in my pillow, desperately holding onto my mental head. "Dad, stop it!" I yelled, hysterically. "Stop it! _Stop_! Stop the screaming! I'm _sick of the fucking screaming_! _Dad_!"

_This is what will be happening to him right now_, they sniggered cruelly.

"_NO_!" I screamed, weeping horribly again.

_Find him. Do the right thing. **Find him**. Fight for him. He may be crazy, but he's your **dad**._

"Just shut up!" I shouted. "Dad, shut up!"

_Do it!_

Then, with all my might, I let out a shrill scream into my pillow which shook the walls of the whole room. Then I faintly heard Ace starting to yelp at me.

"Shut up, Ace!" I shouted. Another few tears spilled out as I remembered my first day of madness with the first Ace. I rose up from the bed and got to my feet, panting hard as I tried to make the screaming stop. I was very nearly pulling out my own hair I was clutching it that hard. "Okay, okay, okay…" I said, as calmly as possible.

_Fight, Shaylee_.

"Shut up!" I barked. I took a deep breath. "Okay, okay…if I'm going to go out there, on my own, in the night, all the way to Arkham, to make sure dad…isn't…screaming…then…so be it. But I can't be _that _idiotic. I have to go armed! I'm _sure _I'll have a knife left over…no, Shaylee, what are you _doing_? There's crazy loonies in there, you could get _killed_! No, no…this is for _dad_. This for dad, no one else. If I die, I die for him. I don't give a fuck. There's no one worth _living for _other than him, right? Yes, yes, this the right thing to do…but, Shaylee…oh my god are you an _idiot_? This isn't right. No, it _is _right." I screamed loudly. "Fuck! Dad, tell me what to do! I want to save you…but I don't wanna die! Wait, why should I _care_?"

I had been pacing so quickly I found myself out of breath almost instantly. I stopped in my tracks as I was facing the wall where my wardrobe was, and I stared at my hanging clothes again.

_Think about what he said to you_.

"Think about what he said," I repeated. "Wait, no! Why are _you _here? I thought I'd gotten _rid of you_!" I exhaled deeply and looked back at the clothes hanging up. I decided nevertheless to answer the voice only I could hear. "Dad said…to make sure you're not recognised…to always be sneaky…sometimes…he said…he felt like he was becoming a different person…and that's exactly what happened. It happened to Harley, too, didn't it?" My eyes widened. "I could…I could go there…and rescue you…but who said I had to be _me_? If I was me…they'd surely recognise me…as the daughter of that scumbag Jack Napier…and I'd be thrown out in seconds…well, maybe I wouldn't because I'm an expert at this now…surely I wouldn't have to _disguise _myself, would I? No. No…but then again…I have a criminal record now, don't I? Prison three times…surely they'd recognise me and get suspicious…that's exactly what _dad did_…so if I _did _disguise myself…then I'd be following what dad had told me, right? If I became…someone else…"

My voice lingered away as I touched the sleeve of my purple jacket.

They were still whispering: _fight_.

"Dad said…if you look sweet and innocent…people won't suspect a thing. Right? Yeah, that's what he said, and when we did crime together that's _exactly _what they thought…because of the way I dressed…and my hair in pigtails…and my goodie-goodie clothes looking like a schoolgirl…he was right. Everyone thought I _was _innocent. If I go as me, as Shaylee, they may suspect something suspicious because they _know _me there…and then they may even discover dad's _true identity _just by my presence there! Yes. So if I go as…somebody else…" I stroked the end of the sleeve between my fingers. "Hmmm…who's an innocent young girl who turned crazy because she was made to do _murderous _things? But it was not expected of her? Hmmm…" I smirked and glanced over my shoulder where I saw my plastic tiara glistening on my side table, next to my new purple gloves. "Jane."

That's when my mind went into overload. I pulled my jacket off its coat hanger and ran into the comfy room where I did my writing. I grabbed my drawing pad and wildly flipped through the pages where I found my Jane Price designs. All of them looked pretty similar, but one of them (one of my earliest sketches) had Jane wearing coincidentally what had been hanging on my wardrobe. Well, almost. The shoes were different and her tights didn't have holes in it, neither did her purple top have a crown on it, but it was close enough. The one above that had Jane wearing a green schoolgirl tie, which sparked my interest immediately.

I know I had been wearing makeup like Jane's and had dyed my hair exactly like hers recently, but I had _never _dressed up as her before.

Tonight was going to be different. My mind had convinced me. I couldn't just leave dad in Arkham, suffering, and I was going to save him. I needed to at least fool people into thinking I was a different person. An innocent person, and not the troublesome teenager Shaylee Jane Napier who had an increasing criminal record. Of course, they'd be suspicious of a teenage girl waltzing in dressed a little weird, but still, a lot of people in Gotham dress up like that, don't they?

I can't really explain what came over me all of a sudden. Dad's ideas and his view of the world had corrupted my mind, and _that_, along with my schizophrenic paranoia that lead to my voices, led me to completely lose my mind. After that breakdown, I just went completely nuts. It's indescribable.

I went into the bathroom, having grabbed all of my clothes and my shoes and I locked the door behind me. I instantly threw off my pyjamas into the bath never to be worn again, and for some reason, my red bra was still on. I quickly dressed myself in these 'Jane' clothes, but hurriedly wiping them with baby wipes to make them look fresh and clean, as Jane's clothes were much more expensive than mine. I tightly buckled the thick belt on my skirt and made sure my high-heeled boots were on tightly. I then slipped into my new silk purple gloves, which went surprisingly well with my outfit, even though you could only see my hands covered up because my jacket covered my entire arm when I threw that on. It didn't matter though, that's how I'd designed Jane anyway.

I then proceeded to do my makeup, taking my time to create the gothic makeup of Jane and myself, but then adding the innocent pretty colours, like pink to my flushing cheeks and purple eyeliner across the upper eye area. The rest was entirely black, including my lips. I masterfully slapped on my black lipstick many times before jamming it into an inside pocket of my jacket. It took a while, but after it'd finished it looked like my appearance was finally coming together. I examined myself for a few moments, noticing I had a very bare neck. The green tie idea came flashing back into my mind, but I grunted in frustration when I realised I didn't have one.

"Hmmm…" I mumbled, thinking hard. "Green tie, green tie, so I look like a schoolgirl…uhh…maybe…maybe Bradley has one."

I tiptoed downstairs to Bradley's flat where I entered his typical messy bedroom and flickered on the light. I rummaged through his drawers for ages, desperate to complete my look. I had no luck, and I groaned loudly when I found nothing. I then angrily opened his wardrobe and filed through his clothes, where his smart suit (only the one) was hanging right at the end. My face lit up and I smirked widely when I discovered there was in fact a tie hanging over the shoulder. I took and brought it into the light, where to my disappointment, it turned out to be deep purple colour, which didn't go with his suit _at all_, but what do boys know, eh?

I decided to use it anyway, and raced back up to my bathroom, where I skilfully put it around my neck. Mom had shown me how to wear ties when I was kid, and I certainly hadn't forgotten.

Finally, I stroked my greasy hair and looked at it very closely. I had designed Jane with much shorter hair, almost like a bob, but I was just too excited and too keen to get going to bother with that. So I took two bobbles from the side of the sink, and tied my hair in my usual large pigtails, where my red-dyed hair now dangled down next to my face, with the ends having been dipped into black dye, so I looked even cooler.

The finishing touch was placing that silly plastic tiara on my head, to crown myself as Princess Jane.

_Shaylee, stop waiting around. Go and break into Arkham and go and save your father. He is what matters_.

"Hey now," I said. "Just for tonight, you can call me Jane. Jane Price. _Princess _Jane Price. If I'm going to be a little bit of a hero tonight, why not hide my identity like dad and the wretched bat? Shaylee's been broken now, let's start again, just for tonight. Shaylee's lost almost everything, so she's going to try and get it back. Hmm?" I giggled as I made my pigtails swing at the side of my head. "Wow, she looks good in pigtails," I giggled. "I might draw that later. But first, time to make sure dad's okay. Because he's not dead, he's _not_. He can't die _twice_, can he?"

I sauntered into the comfy room, where my suitcase was _still _lying there and I unzipped it to find there was one little knife still laying in there, gleaming up at me. All my other ones had been taken away from me by the police.

As soon as I picked it up, I jumped a little when I saw a shadow loom in the doorway, but sighed with relief when I saw it was only my little fluff ball. Ace plodded into the room, snivelling up every inch of the room, going straight past me. I carefully picked him up, with my knife still in my hand.

"Do I look different, little Ace?" I giggled, holding him aloft in the air and looking up at him like he was a child. "Does mommy look different?" I laughed as I allowed him to lick my face. Sweet how he was totally oblivious I was a different person now. "Hey, hey, watch mommy's makeup, you little mutt," I chuckled, placing him down. He sat obediently looking up at me with his tongue dangling out. "Now I won't be long, Ace, okay? There's food out for you. If anyone breaks in, you, Buster and Rosie claw their eyes out like good little puppies."

I went and grabbed my phone and placed it in my jacket pocket before I left for my crazy adventure. The knife I was twiddling in my gloved hand I kept a firm grip of. I wasn't letting that out of my grasp. Unless of course, I had to hide it in case I was caught.

So Princess Jane set off on her big adventure, and she didn't bother grabbing a cab to get to Arkham. She decided to walk all the way there, but of course keeping her distance and trying to take shortcuts and routes where she wouldn't be spotted as much. I ended up putting the knife in my skirt pocket, which was just big enough for it to fit, and luckily it came with a safety sleeve to put over the blade, so I put that over it so it didn't stab me in the leg while I walked. Nothing could hurt me anyway, not after experiencing being shot in the arm.

It took me at least half an hour to walk all the way to Arkham, as it was quite a distance from my street. My mind was racing the whole time, the voices still not leaving, but I tried my best to ignore them. Of course, I had the odd weird glare here and there from people I came across but I decided to ignore it. After all, Jane was taught to ignore it as Moskins told her she was there to be made a fool of, because that's what she deserved. Maybe that's not what _I _deserved, but remember, I was Jane that night, not Shaylee. I was a new identity so I wasn't recognised, well barely any _normal _people in the City didn't know me anyway, but mainly the reason I had done it was because I couldn't control my mind. My mind was in control now and there was no escape

I finally reached the gates of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane from following the signs in the streets, where to my surprise, a bodyguard was guarding the door, looking around him steadily searching for trouble. I groaned quietly in disappointment when I saw him. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me approaching. He stood closer in front of the door handle to I couldn't get in.

"State your business, miss," he demanded.

"I'm here to visit my daddy," I said, truthfully, smiling sweetly at him.

"Is that so?" he laughed. "Well, I'm afraid visiting times are over unless you have an appointment. I don't see why you'd want to see your father if he's in a place like this."

"Oh but I _do _have an appointment," I giggled, putting my hands behind my back, innocently.

He eyed me up and down.

"What are you _wearing_?" he spat.

"Oh, uh…I like to dress up, you see," I said. "But I kept on my tie from school."

"Didn't think the folk in Gotham High wore purple ties. What's with the crown?"

"Oh, uh…I just like to wear it, so what?"

"Well, little miss dress-up, can you prove you have an appointment to see your father this evening?"

"Well, if you let me in, I can talk to the person on the reception desk and _they _can agree with me because they'll have it on their computer, won't they? I promise, sir, I'm telling the truth. I only want to see my daddy. Please, he's very lonely at the moment."

"Alright, alright, but if I hear any trouble, you'll be out, understood?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"There's guards in here, young lady. They can inform me straight away if you're here to stir up any trouble."

"Do I look like a trouble-maker to you?" I chuckled

He stood to one side and like a fool he swung open to door for me. I skipped into the bleak reception hall of Arkham, where, as I presumed, someone was waiting on the reception desk. I pleasantly smiled at the lady, who gasped when she saw me coming over. I thought it was stupid how it didn't have a glass window between the woman and me, I mean were they stupid? _Anyone _could've walked in and attacked her. Hmm.

"C-Can I help you?" she stuttered.

"Yes you can, actually," I grinned, leaning over on the desk, purposely being disturbing. "You see, I'm here to visit my…my father…I know he's serving treatment here."

"I'm afraid this isn't a hospital, miss, this is an asylum."

"I know that, I read the sign. Do you think I'm stupid? Crazy?"

"Uhh…" She stared the tiara on my head. "No. No, not at all."

"I made an appointment to see him, actually," I lied.

"Oh really?" she asked, starting to type on her computer. "What's your name?"

"Sha–Jane Price," I answered.

"And what's your father's name?"

Of course I wasn't going to be truthful, I wanted to mess her around. I knew I could take this little bitch on. There stupidly wasn't any security around, so I knew I was safe. God, the people here were such idiots.

"He's called Thomas," I said. "Thomas Price."

She fumbled around on her computer for a while, while I smirked at her puzzled expression.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid there's no one here with that _name_, let alone an appointment made," she said, looking at me, nervously.

I pretended to look confused.

"Pardon? That _can't _be right," I exclaimed. "I made an appointment only last week."

"I'm sorry, miss, be there's nothing I can do."

"But you work here, surely you can…_find out_. Huh?"

"I need to ask you to leave."

"Why?"

"Because you are causing inconvenience."

"Inconvenience? Look at yourself. Why would a place like this, an asylum, need a _receptionist_?"

I burst out laughing.

"Young lady, please leave, right now, or I'm calling security," she said, sternly.

"Oh, you won't need to," I chuckled. "I'm just leaving."

I slowly turned around and started heading towards the door. But then I stopped. I dug my hand in my skirt pocket and slipped my knife out of its case. I then sharply turned back towards her, still keeping my knife inside my pocket, hidden away.

Then my mind whispered: _Kill_.

I launched myself at the desk, revealing my knife and I climbed on the desk and climbed through the gap on all fours, where the lady jumped back in surprise. She screamed when I made myself into her actual desk area and I had her backed up against the wall.

"_Security_!" she screamed. "Security!" I grabbed her collar and pulled her closer to me. "Help! Help me!"

"Shush, shush…" I quietened, calmly. "I can't concentrate if you're screaming at me."

"Let go of me, you're crazy!"

"Do I look crazy to you? So judgemental. Just because I've dressed up a bit and I have a knife, that makes me crazy. Typical."

"J-Just, please, don't…."

"Shut up! Look, honey, I think you've messed with the wrong girl today. So I'm gonna show you that."

"You're…you're not going to kill me?"

I spluttered into laughter again at such a thought.

"Oh no, no, no, no!" I laughed. "Never _kill you_! Just, uh…show you a little lesson." Still laughing I then raised my hand, the one that wasn't clutching the knife and I slammed it right into the woman's face in a sharp punch, where she yelled in pain as she collapsed onto the floor. When I see she wasn't knocked out, I grabbed her hair and did the same again, this time harder. I saw blood running from her nose as she fell to the ground, but this time, she didn't move. Her eyes were closed as she lay there on conscious. I chuckled proudly to myself before sighing down on her. "Should never cross a girl wearing a crown, lady," I said, starting to file through the different slide keys on the wall behind me. "Girls with a crown are always petty, always demanding things, always not as sweet as they look. If I'm gonna do this properly, I gotta look as princess-like as possible. A sort of _criminal _princess, huh? The _last _kinda girl you think would be heartless would be a princess."

I hummed to myself as I looked carefully for the sliding key that would lead me into the actual Asylum itself. I took a look around before I seized several cards and then made my way out, climbing through the gap again, carefully trying not to drop anything. I then sharply looked around me again before I ran over to a large door labelled 'Inmates' and an arrow facing upwards. I slid many different keys down the lock trying to find the right one, and as I did I heard footsteps approaching my way.

"Shit!" I whispered, flicking a couple more but the light kept flashing red.

"Is someone there?" the voice called.

Just in time, one key slid into place, making a green light flash and the door unlock, and I quickly dashed through the door, neatly piling the cards into my hands and with my heart pounding fast, burrowed them into my other skirt pocket.

I followed the signs that lead to a huge door, inside would be a long line of cells with insane psychos filling them all up. I started to feel sweat dripping down my head as I backed up against the wall, out of sight from the window in the door. I was lucky no one had spotted me or was running after me, as security hadn't been reached. There were security cameras around every corner, but I was totally confused as to why no one was chasing after me. Maybe they thought I was an inmate myself. I found myself shaking, too much that I couldn't proceed.

I wanted to find dad, but I couldn't risk being chucked out.

"Oh god…" I whispered in my quivering voice. "Come on, Jane, come on, you can _do _this…"

Grabbing onto the knife in my pocket, I pushed the door which surprisingly opened straight away. I then found myself being plunged into a long line of cells, each filled with yelling inmates, mostly men. As I walked past each of them, they all slammed themselves against their glass windows and stared at me, some of them even yelling at me to help them, but of course I ignored them all as none of them were The Joker.

I made it all the way to the other end of the corridor where I reached another door, but this time this one didn't open for me. I sighed and brought out the stolen slide cards and began to try each of them, until one eventually made the little light flicker green and the door unlocked.

I swung it open, filled with confidence, but then as I entered the room, I stood stiff. There were several police officers in there, as well as security, and to my dismay they had all spotted me and were staring at me.

"That must be her!" one of them cried. "Look! She has the cards in her hands!"

"Shit," I muttered.

"Well don't just stand there, grab her!" a cop commanded and before I knew it several security guards came stampeding towards me.

I dashed out of the way, dodging several of them, but it wasn't good enough. One of them soon caught me by my hands and kept a firm grip. I tried to escape but he was too strong for me. I wriggled and started screaming, but they all cruelly started laughing at me wriggling uselessly.

"What's so funny?!" I demanded.

"You, trying to escape, you silly girl," a cop chuckled, towering above me. "He's twice your size, love."

I grunted and tried to run away again.

"Let me go, you creep!" I shouted. "Let me explain!"

"Oh no, you listen right here, young lady. We have literally just been informed of your little intrusion..."

"What? How? By who?" I stammered.

"By Kelly, the woman at reception," he answered.

"But…but…I knocked her _out_! How could she possibly have…?"

"People soon recover from being knocked out, girl," he said and they all laughed in unison.

"But surely not _that _quickly!" I yelled. "Let me _go_!"

"Hand over the cards," he commanded, placing his palm out in front of my face.

"How can I do that, fuck face, when I'm being held back by _both my arms_?!" I cried.

"Fine, check her pockets for them and for any weapons she may be carrying," he told his men.

"_No_!" I yelled. "Stop! You can't use physical force on a seventeen year old girl, you bunch of bastards!" One man dug forcefully into my skirt pocket, pulling out the slide keys hard which made me jerk backwards, but the guard still held me resolutely, starting to put strain on my arms. "Fuck off!" I screamed again, but another pulled out my knife from my other pocket. "Hey! I _need _that!"

"What shall we do with her, lieutenant?" one of the cops asked.

Oh, so this obviously wasn't Gordon who was humiliating me. At least that fact relieved me a little bit.

"Get her out of here," he said.

The guard started pulling me towards the door, as my heart was racing. I squirmed around before I managed to stomp hard on the guards toe, making my groan, but he didn't let me go.

"Wait! Wait a minute! Let me _say _something!" I cried.

"Shut up, little girl, you're going out," the guard holding me grunted.

"_No_! Lieutenant, wait! This isn't right!" I exclaimed. "I should be in a cell!"

My intelligent mind had quickly come up with something. I smirked when the cop ordered, "Wait, let her speak a minute!" and the guard forced me to look at him, but he still held me close.

I had the idea to be purposely locked up, at least that gave me a chance to stay in Arkham and try and sniff out The Joker than be thrown out where it would impossible for me to break in again.

"Surely, officer, what I've done is a crime, isn't it?" I said to him. "Why just chuck me out and let me get away with it? Why don't you just throw me in a cell right now, huh? I _am_ a little crazy to qualify here, aren't I?"

That was the first time I actually admitted I was a little crazy.

He raised is eyebrows in bewilderment, and all of the other men looked just as shocked. I smiled at him and fluttered my mascara-infested eyelashes innocently at him.

"Why _did _you just barge in here anyway?" he asked.

"I came to visit my father," I replied.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Well in that case, send her to the other side, away from the men's departments. Chuck her in with the women."

"_What_?" I spluttered.

"Throw her in a cell with that crazy loon Quinn, they seem to have the same dress sense at least, might give them something to talk about. How noble of you to turn yourself in, young lady. Now, take her there."

"N-No…no…wait…" I gasped. "Wait, who? Quinn? Do you mean Harley Quinn?"

"Yes, now shut up," one of the cops snapped, who was leading me down an endless amount of corridors, using the keys I had stolen to slide his way through the asylum.

They dragged me to a smaller department, where a series of slutty and depressed-looking women glared at me as I was pushed past each of their cells. We were brought to the very end cell and I was pushed into it, finally being released, so I rubbed my arms where I had been gripped so hard. I instantly darted around again as they shut the door and now I was behind bars, trapped.

Before he left, the cop said, "You know you're actually crazy, don't you? You don't know what you've just got yourself into. Turning yourself in, indeed."

He tutted and they all walked away, with me scowling at them as they left.

"Shit," I muttered.

"Hey there," a sweet voice came behind me.

I twirled around to see Harley Quinn herself laying down on the little bed, her legs swinging crazily above her and she was smiling at me with a sloppy grin.

"Harley," I said, almost sounding relieved.

"Do I know ya?" she asked, sitting up and examining me closely.

I sat on the floor facing her crossed-legged, making my skirt squeak as it stretched out.

"Do you not recognise me?" I asked her.

"Hmm…you _do _look kinda familiar," she said. "What's with the little tiara on your head?"

She dared to try and touch it, so I quickly flinched away from her.

"Don't touch it," I snapped. "My dad gave it me."

"You're _daddy_?"

"Yeah…yeah…" I sighed. I hugged myself as the cell made me shiver for all sorts of reasons. "I'm wearing this, because it's a disguise…so those lot don't recognise me. People _always _keep their identities hidden nowadays, don't they?"

"I guess so," Harley giggled. She leaped down from the bed and crawled towards me, getting up very close to my face. I backed away a little bit, but for some reason I was still smiling at her. "You're so pretty," she giggled, in her Brooklyn accent.

"Well, thanks," I said.

"You look _so much _like this…girl…I once knew…oh my god…" She beamed with excitement. "_Shaylee_?" she cried. "Oh my god, Shaylee is that _you_?"

I leaned in closer to her. "Listen, between me and you, I _am _Shaylee, but all of those guys think I'm called Jane. Because I am. Look at me. I'm not dressed like typical Shaylee. Not completely. I'm Princess Jane Price now."

"Oh wow!" Harley picked me up and made us both stand up on our feet. "You look so much like Diana!"

"I know, everyone says that!" I laughed.

Harley laughed insanely.

"So why are you _here _anyway?" she asked, still holding onto my hands. "What's been going on? Is your dad okay?"

"You do know he's alive, right?" I inquired.

"Of _course _I do, but he told me not to tell anyone he was…he _wanted _everyone to believe he was dead all those years ago! I even signed a fake death certificate so it looked like he _was_!"

"What?! So that was _you_?"

"Yeah! I lied and said I was his _wife_! It was _so cute_! I managed to get out of here for a bit and your daddy went _crazy _when he hung out with me for a few weeks at Ivy's place. He made me listen to everything he wanted to say, and he told me to go _that _extreme to make people believe his death so I signed a fake death certificate months later. Then he just went through, uh…"

"I know what you're going to say," I sighed. "He went through a massive breakdown, didn't he? And then he became someone else because he went _that _crazy."

"Oh my god, how you know?"

"Because he _is _that someone else now."

"You mean you've seen Mister J?"

"Mister J? You mean the…The Joker."

"That's the one!"

"Why'd you call him Mister J then?"

"That's his little pet name, he _loves _it," she squealed.

I felt like I wanted to throw up at that moment.

"Harley, don't you know he's been parading around the City for _days _now?" I explained. "Blowing stuff up, creating chaos, killing loads of people, but he's now The Joker. Not my dad. He was even _here _a few nights ago but then he escaped and now he's _back here_…"

"You're _kidding_!" Harley exclaimed, gasping happily. She suddenly squealed with delight and jumped up and down. "J's _here_?!" she chimed.

"Yes, yes, Harley, but…the thing is…"

"Well, we need to get him out right away!" she cried.

"Hang on a minute, let me finish…"

"Oh, go on then."

"On the news before it said he _collapsed_ after a really bad mental attack…I…I'm so worried…"

"What? Oh _no_!"

"So _that's _why I came here to see if he's in good condition and to let him loose again."

"Why you smirkin', Shaylee?"

"_Jane_."

"Ooh, sorry, Jane…yeah…why you…?"

"Because I have a funny feeling you know what to do to find him. Oh Harley _please _say we can find him!"

"Jane, I've been _locked _up in this place for so long now, you think I don't know it inside out? If Mister J is here then…"

"Keep your voice down, Harley before we're spotted plotting."

"But if he's _here_, I know what section he's gonna be in, as well as what they'll be doing if he's had an attack, they'll be checkin' up on him!"

"So what do you exactly plan to do?" I asked.

"Well, Princess Jane, we need-ta…uhh…we need some disguises first otherwise we can't get round here without being chucked back in here again!"

"Oh Harley, I'm _so _glad I've been thrown in a cell with you!" She stared at me, and I blinked hard. "That was the weirdest thing I've ever said."

"Hey, honey, I just want him outta here just as much as you ya know!" she laughed.

"Only because you _fancy_ him!" I chortled.

"Uh but he is _handsome_," she said, soppily.

I shuddered slightly.

"Harley, just tell me how we're going to do this," I said. "I mean, surely it's impossible to…"

"Hey now, it ain't impossible, Janey, baby! I studied psychology a _long _time ago, remember? With ya mom. I know what's probably wrong with him, so I know where they'll be keepin' him right now! I've managed to get outta here so many times, and the people here are _so stupid _they don't suspect a thing! Trust me. So we'll just wait."

"What? What do mean wait?"

"We'll have to wait a second, we can't just get out like _that, _ya know!"

"But…but what about my dad?"

"Relax, sweetie."

"Don't call me that."

"Huh, _sorry_. Whatcha wanna be called instead then?"

"Jane."

Harley made her way up to the bars and grabbed them, peering out her dainty head. Her red and black skirt was so short that I almost saw what was underneath, but like me she was wearing long boots to cover up her bare legs. Like me, she had blonde pigtails in which were dyed red and black at the ends, and wore a top that showed much of her cleavage, and cute little black gloves. I thought she must've gotten so obsessed with dad that she was starting to dress similarly.

Nothing was said for ages, so I sat down on the little bed with my arms folded, ready for Harley to make a move. I tapped my fingers on my arm, impatiently.

Suddenly, Harley cried out, "Hey mister!" I looked up to see an officer was now strolling past, but he ignored Harley and kept on walking. Harley shushed me when I started giggling at it. "_Hello-oh_?" she called down again. "Can't ya _hear _me? Hey, mister cop! I wanna make a request!"

I snickered as the cop reluctantly came back and was facing Harley from behind the bars.

"What is it, Miss Quinn?" he sighed in annoyance.

"Just wonderin' if I could get my phone call?" she asked, sweetly. "Just wanna ring my mama, see how she is."

"You're out of your mind, lady, if you think I'm gonna fall for that one," he grumbled.

"Hey! I'm _not _outta my mind!" Harley squealed. "Well, maybe a little, but I haven't had a phone call in _three months_, an' I'm serious about that one!"

"How can I be sure you're being truthful?" he questioned.

"You can even ask the…uhh…the person in charge! _They _can confirm I haven't _had _one in _ages_!"

"Miss Quinn…"

"_Pleaaase_…."

"Alright, alright, just hang on…" he groaned and then swiftly moved away.

Harley turned her head and grinned craftily at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, lowering my voice. I was grinning just as wide as she was.

"Making an excuse to get out of this cell for the mo," she chuckled. "Once I get out, I'll get some disguises for us, uh…some cop outfits and some masks will do, won't it? I'll get the keys to Mister J's cell as well. For all I know he could be lying in an interrogation room still. We'll have a good look, but don't worry, I have it _all _worked out, Jane." I just simply nodded even though I didn't quite fully understand. Very soon, the cop returned and Harley excitedly jumped up and down, still gripping onto the bars. "Well?" she asked, blatantly filled with adrenaline.

"I checked with the commissioner and he's granted you permission," he mumbled.

"_Yay_!" Harley squealed.

"But listen, here, Quinn, five minutes only," he warned. "I'm escorting to you to make sure there's no funny business. You can't fool us that easily."

"Oh, officer I _love you_!" Harley laughed. "And don't worry, I won't need _more _than five minutes!"

"Yes, alright." He pulled out a large collection of keys and with a large click unlocked our cell. Harley skipped out where she was immediately grabbed by another guard who appeared to come out of nowhere. The other cop curiously looked back at me. "And who are you?" he asked.

"Princess Jane Price," I answered, almost naturally like it _was _my true name now. "Clown Princess of Crime, Blowing Things to My Kingdom Come."

Harley exploded into laughter.

"Keep her quiet!" the cop yelled.

"Shut it, Quinn!" the guard grunted, holding her firmer.

"Nice one, Jane," Harley chuckled.

The cop looked back at me, slamming the crumbling cell door before me again.

"Well, Miss Price, I'm afraid you'll have to stay in here," he said.

"You think I didn't guess that already?" I laughed, pointing obviously at the door.

"Where did you come from anyway?"

"Literally was thrown in here about ten minutes ago," I explained, in my sweet 'Jane' voice. "I spoke quite rudely to the cops and I brought a knife in here so they just arrested me on the spot, you see…"

"Have you had an interrogation?" he asked.

"No, why would I need one of those anyway? They _know _I can't lie, because they saw what I did for themselves."

"Hey, officer, my _phone call_?" Harley interrupted.

"Alright, don't get your pigtails in a twist, Quinn," he scoffed.

He double-checked the cell door was locked before leading Harley away, who winked at me just before she left my sight.

Strange how Harley and I had formed an alliance almost instantly. I knew I _shouldn't _have done it, because she still killed my mother, but even then I knew she was innocent and it was actually unintentional. It was all Larry's fault. I thought there and then if Larry was still walking the streets of Gotham, I thought The Joker (or dad) would have killed him straight away, even before he became The Joker. If not, then he was certainly still in prison. Well, he should have been, I thought. If he was still alive and casually still trying to claim his big fortune, then I would be prepared to shoot him, with the help of the monster inside me that only came out when I was going really mad.

I sat there still, waiting for Harley to return. I thought she was crazy thinking she could get away with this, but then again, she _was _an expert of crime, having done it since she and dad were young adults.

Very soon, I heard joyous hollering filling up the corridor and Harley leaped back up to the door of the cell, making me stand up in alarm. She was carrying a pile of clothes in her arms and was dangling the large keys that the cop before had been using. Giggling crazily, she managed to unlock the cell door and squeeze back in, and with a quiet groan threw all the clothes onto the floor.

"Hey, hon," she greeted, sounding out of breath. "Put these on, quick."

"What are they?" I asked, picking up a shirt.

"They're the cop's outfits, just put them on," she said, gesturing with her hand.

"But…but what am I going to do with the clothes I'm _wearing_?"

"Jane, you _worry _too much," Harley chuckled, starting to put a top on. "You over-analyse. Put these clothes on _over the top_, it'll be fine. Then we'll put these medical masks over our mouths so we're not recognised and _look_, I even brought clipboards and everything so it looks like we're staff!"

I started struggling to put on a ladies' cop shirt over the top of my jacket, but I just about managed it, buttoning it up so my clothes were unnoticeable. The nametag of 'Janine' was still labelled on. I slipped off my gloves and shoved them into my skirt pocket. There was no way I could put the trousers, over my skirt, so I didn't bother as my skirt was leather, but Harley managed to get hers over her frilly girly skirt.

"What did you _do_?" I asked, as I buttoned up.

"I beat _all _their asses, and now there are _so many _on conscious right now!" Harley laughed. "I stripped off two of the women and stole their clothes as I shoved them into an empty room, which I…don't really know what was for…but I even managed to take down the big guy, and _look_…" She leaned down and picked up something from underneath a pair of trousers and displayed it breathlessly. "I even stole this little beauty." I glanced up and saw she was holding a gun.

"Oh my god," I exclaimed. "Where'd you get that?"

"A cop had it, _some _of them need to be armed, don't they?" she squeaked. "You asked too many questions."

"Well, this is all new to me," I said.

"Nahh, it's new to _Jane_," Harley pointed out. "Not Shaylee. Shaylee's been here before, according to Shaylee's daddy she's done a _lot _of crime before."

"Yeah, she has. But nothing as big as this. Shaylee couldn't cope, which is why she became Jane."

Harley then threw me a mask that would cover my face.

"Put it on, Jane," she said, putting hers neatly into place. I did exactly the same. "You ready?" she asked, muffled under the mask. I nodded keenly. "Let's go then, _come on_."

We both grabbed a clipboard, with Harley placed the gun _inside _her trousers and grabbed the keys. I still had my tiara placed on my head, as I simply refused to take it off. The crown was what completed me.

"Wait, how do you know which key it is?" I asked.

"I've had these keys loads of times," Harley explained. "I've worked some of these out over the years." She closed the cell door and instantly grabbed a specific key and locked it, giggling loudly. "Come on then…" She glanced down at me nametag. "Janine. We have a patient to visit."

"Okay…Shelly," I giggled, checking her own nametag.

We both jumped a mile when we saw someone dash through the door at the end of the corridor, this time a guard.

"Oh, great," Harley murmured.

"Hey, you two, what do you think you're _doing_?" he shouted, running over to us both.

I stared at Harley, hope filling up inside of me she would make a move. Damn it, if _only _my knife wasn't taken off me.

"Ah-ah-ah, I don't _think _so!" Harley cried, revealing the gun from her trousers. "Don't move, mister! This won't hurt a bit!"

"Put that down!" he yelled, trying to walk even faster.

"Just shoot 'im, Harley!" I wailed.

"I was getting to that, Princess Jane," she giggled. I heard the gun load, making an immediate rush zoom through my body. I smirked at Harley, despite my mouth being covered. "Boom!" Harley cried. A bullet shot through the hall and masterfully hit the guard, aimed perfectly from such a distance. He fell onto his back, without making a sound, and his body just slumped onto the floor, his life ending before my very eyes. "So _rude_, interrupting us," Harley muttered. "Follow me, I think I know where they'll be keeping J."

Harley guided me through a number of corridors, and like a pro she knew every code and every key for every door. It was like she'd done this every day of her life. I found it incredible how she knew so much. Along the way, we got curious looks from the other staff, but nobody stopped us in our tracks, the one time we were stopped and questioned Harley just shot them, along with her infectious giggle, making me laugh as I watched it happen. It was like hanging out with dad all over again, some of his ways had blatantly rubbed off on her. It seemed the disguises were working as we made our way through the huge asylum with screaming crazy prisoners banging frantically on their windows, some were even having a violent wrestle, making me and Harley splutter into cruel laughter. I just couldn't help it, my mind was making me laugh. My mind unleashing the monster inside me.

I couldn't believe our luck. We had so much luck that the staff were so stupid they didn't realise we were two inmates dressed up as cops. I would have thought they would have suspected _something_ with our strangely-dyed hair. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because Harley was prepared and loaded with a gun. I still had an adrenaline rush from seeing Harley shoot that first guy, and it rushed through me as we continued walking through the corridors. I couldn't contain myself, I kept having flashing images of dad and my hallucinated fires kicked off again.

We eventually reached a corridor that had two simple interrogation rooms. Stepping over the cop Harley just killed, she found the key to unlock the first room, and we entered a simple, bleak white-painted room, where at the other end lay another door. We reached that door, which read in dripping white paint 'Patients'.

"This'll be it," Harley said, trembling with excitement. "Shall we go in?"

"Are you sure?" I reassured. "Won't there be anyone in there? I sure hope we don't walk in and there operating on him."

"That's what _guns _are for, honey!" she giggled, fiddling through the keys. "Come on, come on, come on…" She fumbled through all of them. "God, I can't work out which one's we've used already."

"Haven't you been in one of these rooms before?"

"Nah, never ever. They've never had to operate or check-up on _me_, there ain't nothing wrong with me."

She tried several keys, but none of them opened this door. I could tell she was starting to get frustrated, making me step away nervously.

A pig must have flown over the asylum at that moment because the door handle turned, making us step back in shock. A woman wearing glasses came out of the doorway and froze in horror when she saw us. She started stuttering, and like a genius, I grabbed the door just before it closed, making sure we'd get in. I glanced back at Harley, who I saw was already pointing the gun at her.

"Nice one, Princess Jane," she chuckled, nastily.

_Bang_. The woman fell at my feet, blood streaming from her chest.

"Fucking hell, that was brutal," I said.

Harley leaned down and took off the glasses from the woman's face and swung them in her fingers. Her eyes then lifted up to me.

"Let's see how you cute you look with these on, Pricey," she said. I took them with my free and hand and positioned them on my face, blinking hard as everything blurred for a slight second, but I soon got used to the vision through the glass. "Aw, nice," Harley giggled.

"Harley, get in while I have the door open," I whispered.

Harley playfully kicked the dead body before stepping over it casually, and making her way into the room. I went into such wonder staring at the corpse that I jumped a mile upon hearing Harley gasp loudly.

"What's up?!" I cried, dashing into the room.

I stood stiff, hearing the door shut quietly behind me. I could hear a pin drop at that moment as I stared ahead of me. Before me was a stretcher, with no one else but The Joker himself laying on there, motionless, his hand flopping over the side. He was covered up with a white sheet, but his clown makeup still covered his face, although by now it was crumbling away, faintly seeing is true skin underneath. The black he had painted around his closed eyes was smudged upwards, and his red lips had become almost a pink colour.

Harley slowly came to the side of the bed, placing her head against his chest.

"M-Mister J?" she whined. "J?"

"F-Feel his pulse!" I cried, desperately, taking the mask off my mouth and inhaling deeply, as Harley did. "Check it, now! Please don't be dead!" Harley brought out his hand from underneath the sheets and roughly poked his wrist and held it there. "Well?" I asked, coming up to the bed myself.

"I can feel somethin'," Harley said.

"Oh thank goodness!" I sighed with relief. I grabbed Joker's shoulders and shook him vigorously. "Dad! Dad, wake up, it's me!"

"Whatcha doin', are you stupid?" Harley cut in, forcing my hands away. "That's not very wise."

"Why not?" I demanded. "That's my _dad_!"

"I know that, but he could wake at any moment and knowing the state he's in he could kill us instantly!"

"But…but will he _ever _wake up?"

"Of course, he's just passed out after the breakdown. His mind's going wild at the moment."

"_My _mind will go wild if he doesn't wake up soon!" I cried, hysterically.

"Okay, okay, chill," Harley sighed. "He's obviously gone through some trauma, but he'll wake up very soon. It's been so bad he's…"

"He's not in a coma, is he?"

"Oh no, no, no…I don't really know…but he's gonna be alright. That is, if the medics here have worked on him well enough."

Just then, a little grunt came out of The Joker's red lips. It was small, but it was enough to make me squeal.

"Dad!" I cried.

"Shh! Don't try and wake him! He'll need to come around in his own time," Harley stated

"How do _you _know?"

"I studied all about this, remember? I still remember a _tiny weeny _bit, ya know."

"Diana…" a deep voice lingered, softly.

"What?" I spluttered.

The Joker had whispered ever so gently.

"Diana…" he groaned. Harley and I jumped back as we saw him jerk his head frantically for a second, like he had been struck by lighting and had come to life like Frankenstein. "No…no…_they will eat each other_..._they will_…"

"Is he having a nightmare, d'ya think?" Harley giggled.

"Harley, this is no time to make a joke!" I snapped.

"Well, he _is _The Joker."

"I don't care! Just _do _something!"

The Joker continued to groan quietly and his eyes twitched, despite not opening fully.

"Do you have a cell phone on ya?" Harley asked.

A beam spread across my face. "Yes," I breathed.

"Give me it, I can ring Ivy…me and Mister J always hang out there…she'll have stuff that'll help him!"

I started unbuttoning my disguise shirt so I could reach my phone in my jackets inside pocket.

"What does she have that'll help him?" I asked, handing it her.

"Well, Ivy's smart...whoa!" She had flipped open by phone. "15 missed calls…you're popular Jane…who's Chase?"

"Give that to me!" I shouted, snatching it out of her hand. "He's my ex," I muttered, as I got to the dialling page of the phone.

"Aaah…cute," Harley giggled, taking the phone off me again.

"No, it's not," I said, starting to button up again.

Harley soon put her ear to the phone after dialling, and I couldn't help but take my psychopathic father's hand as he continued to jerk around and grunt, but was still oblivious to his surroundings.

"Hi, honey," Harley said on the phone. "It's Harley, ya plonker…look, we have a little bit of a problem…it's Mister J. Mister J. _The Joker_, goddamnit! See, he's…in Arkham, honey, we've managed to get to where he is but he's gone through a _really _bad breakdown. And I mean, _really _bad. It's _so _awful…he's moving and making funny noises but I think it's gonna take time for him to realise where he is…yeah…from what? His social experiment? What experiment?" There was a pause as Harley just nodded her head. "Oh, _I _see. Yeah, he probably _would _break down from that failure, wouldn't he? Yeah. If we get outta here and bring him to your place, I'm sure you could help bring him around again? Hmm? Yeah, I _know _it takes time to recover after a breakdown…yeah, I _know_ he'll be more insane than ever…" My heart dropped at that moment. "But I can't let my poor puddin' suffer…please just try to help, honey…you have ya poison to try and help him…no he's _not _gonna die, Ivy! What? So then he's _free _and won't need to get out himself! What's that? _Really_? In the _van_? Oooh, goodie, okay! Yeah, yeah…I love you, Ivy…_okay_…night night. Night. By-_ye_!" She flipped my phone down. "Ivy's gonna pick us up outside the asylum, we better _move_!" She patted my back in motivation.

"But…but…_how_?!" I exclaimed. "There's guards outside!"

"Relax, we're disguised, remember? If we carry him out on the stretcher it'll look…_not as suspicious_! Won't it? Besides, I'm not carrying him, we physically can't. Besides, I have my gun."

"Harley, please tell me he's going to wake up."

"Ya know, Jane, me and you are probably the only people in Gotham wanting him to awake right now," she laughed. "He'll come around. Doesn't this happen to you after a breakdown? Don't you drift off into a world of madness before you come around again and then suddenly you can't remember what happened? It's happened to _me _before…it _sucks_. It fucks ya brain up so much."

Harley grabbed the end of the stretcher, gesturing me to grab the other end

"Oh…oh yeah it's happened to me a few times," I said. "But obviously he's been like this for so many hours. Wow, he must've been traumatised. He won't die, will he?"

"Ah, no…not with Ivy's smart head, she's got needles and stuff that'll help him. She isn't called _Poison Ivy _for nothing. Now come _on_. Let's get a move on, Princess Jane."

"Okay, Harley Quinn," I sighed. I looked down upon my madness-driven and mentally abused father on the bed. I felt my heart beating fast as for a little moment I saw dad straight away, and not a raging murderer. "You're gonna be alright," I whispered. "I'm here now. There's no going back, you've changed things in this City. You said never to let me be broken, so I'm not gonna let _you _be broken, daddy."

I looked behind me and pushed down the button that made the door unlock, and soon myself and Harley were pushing The Joker out of the asylum on a stretcher, having put back on our masks covering our mouths.

That's when I felt the change within me. A huge change. The biggest of adrenaline rushes I'd had so far. My head was reeling with all sorts of cruel words, because of just the thoughts of knowing my dad was okay and I was with him, even if he _had _become someone else. Even if he had become this maniac. Heck, even _I _was becoming someone else now that my mind had completely gone all over the place as I struggled to cope with it. I knew very well what I was doing was wrong, as I was helping let a terrorist escape from an asylum so he could go around murdering again.

But this was different, you see. In my heart, I still knew he was my father. I didn't hate him, even though I knew I should have. I shouldn't have supported him in what he was trying to do, but I did, and it's very simple why: corruption. I was brought up to believe in everything dad said, and I had been waiting for the days it would actually come to life before my eyes, to see that change in Gotham where everything became chaos because of what he was doing to the 'great' City. Waiting for all the pieces to come together.

I hoped and prayed in my mind nothing much had changed about dad really. I really loved to believe he was just my dad I once knew, only he had an alias, wore clown makeup with funny clothes, and was just a little crazier.

But of course, deep down, I knew it was hopeless. I knew dad had gone through a fracturing change that was so mentally distressing, that he was no longer my father. Well, he was, but I wasn't stupid. I _knew_ in my right mind he had turned completely insane and was now a horrifying psychopath.

But since when do I follow my mind? Not _all the time_. Sometimes I go with my heart. So I kept up my hopes that in maybe an hour or so I would be reunited with him after two years and nothing had changed. I liked thinking that way. It didn't frighten me as much as thinking about the truth.

So much had changed it was_ insane_. Literally.

* * *

_**I know the whole Arkham scene wasn't that great, in fact it kinda sucked, but I tried my best to make it as effective and as Batman-esque as possible :P But I hope people enjoyed it anyway. XD**_


	16. Faithful Little Murderer

_**The Joker makes his first appearance in the flesh here, at long last.**_

_**NOTE: This chapter is heavy with dark content. Just to warn the faint hearted.**_

_**Hope you enjoy the madness ;)**_

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Faithful Little Murderer**

Harley and I pushed the stretcher out through the heavy door, running as fast as we could through the corridors, not caring if we knocked people over. We were not even questioned, Harley just casually guided out through the back entrance, exactly the same one that day when we tried to break Harley out. My heart was racing and sweat was dripping down my forehead, as I suddenly got overheated.

We had reached outside, and Harley just shot the security camera. The narrow alleyway I fondly remembered we were now in, but just after Harley shot the camera skilfully, I leaned my hands on the wall and panted hard, staring down at the floor.

"What are ya _doing_?" Harley cried out, when she saw me.

"I…I'm out of breath," I panted. "Wait a second."

"Oh now Jane, come _on_," she said, sharply. "We have to get to the van! Ivy'll be here any _minute_! We can't just _stop_!"

I gulped hard before letting out several quiet moans.

"But Harley…I feel…so _dehydrated_…" I puffed.

"Oh, Ivy will give ya some water, now come _on_ before someone sees!" she yelled.

I flopped my hands back onto the rail at the bottom of the bed, looking at the mentally distraught clown before me. Harley pulled briskly on her end, nearly making me trip over as the bed started to be pushed down the alleyway, merely fitting through the mess that it was.

My face flushed red, I felt my pulse pump through every part of my body as suddenly we stopped when we reached the end. I glanced up at Harley, who was delicately revealing her gun from inside her trousers and peering round the wall.

"Harley…" I whispered, hoarsely. "Harley! What are you _doing_?!"

"Shht! I'm lookin' out for security," she answered.

I waited with my racing breath, watching Harley peer from around the wall. Then she gasped and quickly backed up again, alarming me.

"Harley!" I said through gritted teeth.

"Doncha move now, Jane," she said, removing the mask from her mouth. She then tiptoed from out of the wall, and I did as I was told and stayed with The Joker. I listened out carefully, only to hear Harley squeal, "Hey, gorgeous!" followed by a beautiful gunshot and a yell of pain that made a glorious rush blow through my body. I managed to control my giggles as it went off, but lost it completely when I heard Harley start to laugh like the lunatic she was. "And _you_!" she cried, followed by another gunshot. Although I couldn't see her, I knew she was being controlled by the adrenaline rush, as her laughter was like mine when my mind took control. After a few moments, I heard, "Oop, here were _are_! _Ivy_!" Harley then dashed around the corner and joined me again, grinning cruelly, making her pigtails swing in the air. "Taxi service is here, honey," she informed, placing the sheet over Joker's face and grabbing the end of the bed, ready to pull away.

I threw off my mouth mask and chucked it one side, before grinning back at Harley and with a nod we started to push the bed out of the alleyway and through the large entrance area, where I smiled at the two corpses, lifeless by the door, one of them being the same man I faced only hours before.

I looked ahead of me to see a large green van that simply read in large pink bubble-writing 'Ivy's Florist'. It had an obvious fake police siren strapped to the top. Harley and I sprinted over to it, parked on the opposite road. Civilians who were standing around (even at such early hours of the morning) hastily moved out of our way as we barged past them, crossing the road, but sensibly using the zebra crossing.

"Hey, girl," Harley said, cheerfully to a strawberry blonde woman wearing an all-green outfit that looked almost identical to Harley's. She hopped out of the driver's seat and waved at Harley.

"Harley," she greeted. They comically gave each other a kiss on both cheeks before giggling immaturely. "Escaping _again_, naughty girl?" she asked.

"Yeah, well," Harley replied. "We had to get poor Mister J to safety because let's face it he's _not _safe in there, is he?"

"Not really," Ivy said. "They know nothing about treatment. What he needs is a drug to make him recover from his horrible mental breakdown. I think I have just the thing. I don't know why you're so keen to help him, anyway, Harley."

"Because the poor dear is _suffering_!"

"You're mad, you are, Harls," Ivy laughed.

I coughed irritably and they both stared at me. I raised my eyebrows and nodded down at The Joker still laying out on the stretcher. I had not left my end of the bed, where Joker's head was still occasionally jerking and I heard him moaning, muffled underneath the sheet.

"Can we get him to your place then?" I asked Ivy, impatiently. "We kinda need to uhh…_hurry_!"

"Alright, chill, sweetheart," Ivy muttered.

"Oh, Ivy, by the way, this is Princess Jane," Harley introduced. "She's uh…well…she _knows _The Joker,"

"Nice to meet you," she said, sounding suddenly jolly. She outstretched her hand for a handshake, with her green gloved hand. "Pamela Isley, but you can call me Poison Ivy. Or just Ivy."

I reluctantly shook her hand in return.

"Princess Jane Price," I said. "Or in real terms, Shaylee Napier."

"_Napier_?" Ivy gasped. She exchanged glances alarmed from me to The Joker underneath the sheet. "Oh my god, you must be–"

"I'd rather not…talk about it…" I stammered. "Look, just call me Jane. I'd rather forget about Shaylee, just for the moment. She's had a hard time." There was an awkward silence as I saw the wind gush Ivy's perfect red hair. I clicked my tongue in the swarm of awkwardness. "So…uh…are you gonna get him in your van then or are we going to stand here like fucking lemons because everyone's _staring _at us and quite frankly I'd rather get The Joker recovered as soon as possible."

"God, you have a potty mouth, don't you?" Ivy laughed, grabbing the other end of the bed.

"Yeah I have, so what?" I said, smiling proudly. "I can't help it."

"Harley, open the back doors," Ivy instructed. "It's unlocked. Come on, let's get him to safety if that's what you _really _want."

"It's what's right," I said.

"I'm not sure about that, Princess Jane," Ivy said.

"What do you _mean _by that?" I asked, sharply.

She didn't reply, as she just started to lift the bed into the back of the van, which Harley had opened. I groaned in frustration as I could barely lift my end to help get it into the van, and the frustration started to rack my head.

"Oh give me that, I'll handle it," Harley said, pushing me hard out of the way.

I stumbled onto the pavement and gazed emptily at the concrete. I heard Ivy and Harley giggling behind me as they pushed my father into the van.

I closed my eyes and steadily inhaled a gust of wind, and then again I breathed it out in a pretty whistle. I relished all that was happening around me and attempted to explode it out of the mind that I despised so much. I heard my heart screaming, commanding me to go out of control, but this time I was going to fight it. I wanted to remain calm, despite feeling Goosebumps prickle on my arms, even though they were still covered up by the cop t-shirt Harley had stolen _and _my purple jacket that always made me overheat. Gotham seemed to always have grey clouds looming over it, so I hardly felt warm in the City. This time was no exception. I felt my body quiver, forcing me to hug myself. Although I don't believe I was shaking from coldness. Something else.

Fear.

I was so scared.

"Hey, Jane, you comin'?" Harley's call sounded so distant even though she was practically chanting down my ear. I opened my eyes which immediately showed me a blurred, slightly flame-tinged concrete. "_Hello_?" Harley rung in my ear again. "PJ? You alright?"

I lifted my dense head up and slowly glanced at her.

"Yeah…" I sighed. "I'm fine."

"Did you just drip off?" she asked.

"Yeah…just took a moment…to compose myself…"

"What _for_?"

"Hey, you two!" Ivy shouted. "Get in the van, we need to get a _move on _before someone gets suspicious! You're lucky it's this time of the day."

Harley grabbed my arm and almost pulled to the ground, making her giggle childishly.

"Hurry up!" she said, desperately.

"I'm coming," I said, still absorbed in my attempted calmness.

Harley jumped in the back seat, and I joined her, sitting the other side.

"You in?" Ivy asked from the driver's seat.

"Yeah," I replied. "He _is _strapped in back there, isn't he?"

"Yes, yes," Ivy said, revving up the engine. Harley and I simultaneously strapped ourselves in. "Now, let's go."

"Yeah, better get away from this fire," I said, in an eerie husky voice.

"A _fire_?" Harley asked, excitedly. "Where?"

My mind was still sketching up tiny fires before me through the van's windows.

"Ah it's nothing," I said to Harley. "Dad said I'm so special only _I _can see them."

I saw Ivy give me a nervous glance through the head mirror, but I just smiled kindly at her. By now she had started hurtling us through the streets, making the siren make a faint warning signal, to obviously fool people into believing we were an actual ambulance, but you must've been _really _stupid to be believe that.

"_I _wanna be special!" Harley exclaimed.

"Nah, trust me, you don't," I said, raucously. "You don't wanna end up like your precious Mister J, do you?"

"Well, I…"

"You don't, Harley."

"Yeah, she's got a point, honey," Ivy said. "To be honest, I don't know what you guys are getting yourselves into, you both must be crazy for wanting to let Jack…sorry, I mean The _Joker _loose. I mean…I've seen him in action these past few days, and it's been _so _brutal."

"Yeah, _I've _missed out on it because I've been locked up in that _prison_ that is Arkham!" Harley cried.

"Arkham _is _a prison," I grumbled.

"Oh poor you, Harley," Ivy said, sarcastically. "I'm such a good friend, aren't I? Helping you out like this, because this _really is _the worst idea ever."

"You can't help who ya fall for!" Harley exclaimed, hysterically.

"Yeah, in your case a psychopathic clown."

"I've _hopelessly _been in love with _Jack _since, well _forever. _But he rushed off with my best friend, didn't he?"

"Excuse me?" Ivy laughed.

"Oh alright, _second _best friend," Harley chuckled.

"Let's face it, Harls, you're too clingy," Ivy said.

"You can say that again," I mumbled. I cleared my throat. "Anyway, Ivy, apparently you used to be friendly with…you-know-who, so how come you're not well known in this City?"

"I like to keep my crimes to myself," Ivy explained. "Unlike The Joker, I don't wanna make a big deal out of it."

"Lies!" Harley squealed. "If you _could_, you'd be the top criminal in this town! Plus, you're too busy _fucking _everyone to get noticed!"

"You shut up!" Ivy seemed to take that light-heartedly, much to my surprise. "Anyway, shouldn't being seductive make me better known? I've been in Arkham a few times for nothing because there's nothing wrong with me!"

"It's okay to be seductive if you're single," I cut in. "Ever since I've been single I've slept with fourteen guys."

"Jesus Christ!" Ivy and Harley burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked, chuckling myself.

"You get around, don't ya?" Harley chortled.

"Hey, I only _do it _to mess around with people's minds," I explained. "Most of the times it works, although I do go back to my ex all the time."

"He _must _be good then to have you going back to him," Ivy said.

"Yeah, he's…he's amazing."

I remained gazing out of the window for the rest of the journey while Harley and Ivy chatted, or rather argued, about The Joker. I for one wished they would shut up. It only anchored my heart down more. All I wanted was for him to be alright.

After a mere ten minutes we finally arrived in a blackened street, where right at the end lay a tiny building with a crooked roof that looked like something out of a fairy tale. I had to double check we were in the right place when Ivy stopped the van. Although it had a certain creepiness about it, it was very well hidden, like in a street that was miles away from the main Centre in the City. Large green plants grew up the side of the walls, in fact there were plants and flowers decorated all around the house.

"Wow," I exclaimed to myself as Harley and Ivy stepped out of the van.

I heard them opening the back of the van, followed by clattering and overlapping arguing and groaning by the two madwomen. I leaped out of the van myself and joined them, just as they were pulling him out and Ivy slamming the door firmly.

"Right, take him round the back to the basement," Ivy instructed. "I'm gonna park this properly."

"The basement?" Harley questioned.

"I have everything I need for him in there," Ivy said, hopping back into the driver's seat.

Harley sighed, glancing back at me

"You heard the girl," she said. "Let's go." I nodded and grabbed one end while Harley took the other. "Let's get you better, Mister J," she cooed, making me feel vomit at the back of my throat.

Harley guided me up the 'house', and she instantly knew where to take the stretcher. We dashed so quickly that my tiara, that had been starting to slip off for a while now, fell onto the floor.

"Oh man!" I groaned.

"I got it!" Harley said, picking it up with one finger before jangling it in the air. "Pretty!"

I rolled my eyes as we continued and eventually reached a large door, ornamented with what seemed a thousand pot plants, was already wide open for us and we pushed The Joker inside, and Harley switched on the dim light that barely made me see any better.

"What is this place?" I asked Harley, as we made the bed stable.

"Oh Ivy found this abandoned library ages ago," Harley said. "Gave it a…uh _nice _little makeover and now she _claims _she's a florist but she's hell of a lot smarter than that."

"It don't look much like a library," I said, baffled.

"I know, that's the _beauty _of it!" Harley shrieked. "I said if Ivy wasn't such a badass like she is then she could be an architect!"

"You mean a decorator?" I chuckled.

"Same thing!" she laughed.

Ivy soon joined us, wheezing hard as she shut the door behind us.

"Right, let's see what we can do," she sighed, rubbing her hands together. She glanced at Harley. "Now you _sure _you wanna do this?" she inquired.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Harley squealed. "I ain't seen him in about ten months! I haven't even seen the full-on _Joker _since I saw him just then in Arkham."

"Consider yourself _lucky_," Ivy moaned. "Lucky that I'm doing this for you. After this, I'm having nothing to do with the maniac, you get it?"

"Suit yourself, but _I _will!"

"Of course you will." Ivy then looked at me, who had my arms folded in impatience. "Uhh…Shaylee

"_Jane_," I corrected.

"_Jane_…are you _sure _you want to see this?" she asked, quite seriously.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" I said.

"Because…" She sighed deeply. "Look, you're his _daughter_, aren't you?"

"Oh well done on guessing that one."

"Are you sure you wanna see this? It could be quite upsetting for you to see me put him through what I'm about to do."

"That's what I'm here for, isn't it? To make sure he's better."

We all clung onto a nearby object when The Joker grunted hoarsely and groaned, "_I…I'm not alone…_"

"He spoke!" Harley wailed.

"Shh!" Ivy hissed.

She slowly revealed The Joker's smeared clown face from underneath the sheet, and he still looked as peaceful as ever. I looked up at Ivy and Harley ads I still clung onto a nearby table, startled by The Joker's sudden movement. Ivy lifted her eyebrows questionably, and I looked back at her guiltily.

"Is…is it going to be really hard for me to watch?" I asked, quietly, feeling like my self-confidence had be gauged out of me.

"I think you should go and sit in the big room," Ivy suggested. She started walking towards the door the opposite side. "It will be better for you," she said, opening the door.

"But…but he _needs _to see her when he recovers!" Harley complained.

"She will, Harley…we'll tell him all about it…if he believes us. Just don't get hysterical."

As pathetic as I felt, I took one last painful glance at The Joker, whose eyes were now twitching, and plodded out of the room. I saw Ivy smile for the first time as she gently shut the door behind me, and I found myself in a soundless hallway, but I soon discovered the room she meant, of course being beautifully decorated with plants. Post-stick notes were dotted all around with notes and facts I didn't understand, and I stroked the brick walls that stung my hand with coldness. I was still wearing the police top _and _the silly glasses Harley had made me put on my face. They didn't help with my distorted hallucinations either.

There was a random chair near the back of the room, so I sat myself on it, and stared ahead at nothing in particular. Little flames were still burning at me, but I couldn't hear any voices, thankfully.

This was too scary. I was _too _calm. Even upon hearing very muffled clattering and inaudible nattering between Ivy and Harley operating on The Joker, my father, from a terrible mental breakdown, I was _still _too calm. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I panicking? I still had my hand to my mouth and bit my nails underneath the silk glove, but I felt too relaxed.

Maybe it was because I was actually excited. But why? It just started to raise endless questions, and _that _actually made me nervous more so than waiting to see what would happen to the maniac these two obsessive women were operating on. Well, _one _obsessive woman. Ivy genuinely _did _look unsure about it, and I knew from how worried she looked and how well she spoke that she wasn't crazy. Harley _was _crazy. Even more so than me.

I waited a good thirty-five minutes at least. I had even started to pace up and down the room because I got worked up about the fact I couldn't hear what they were saying in the other room.

Until I suddenly heard a clash.

I heard a door swing open and I halted my feet.

"You won't believe it!" I heard Harley squeal. "You really won't." There was a pause. "Aw, come _on_! Why the long face, J?"

My heart stopped as I heard a croaky cough.

"Do the scars make me look sad?"

I gasped. That was The Joker's spine-crawling voice I had heard on TV a few days before. The clown voice that seemed to keep a tint of dad's voice locked inside it.

"Uhh…no…" Harley said. "They never have."

"Where is this _Jane_?" The Joker demanded.

I felt my heart skip a beat so quickly I thought my life was over.

"In there," Harley answered. "An' I _promise _you it's the truth! I thought you'd be _happy_, puddin'! You're actin' really strange…"

"Shut up!" a demonic voice snapped.

I heard Harley yelp loudly and a crash against the wall, making my heart lock onto full-speed.

"Hey, Joker, you should be _grateful_!" I heard Ivy yell. "I didn't even _want _to–"

"Oh I _am_, Isley" The Joker answered, suddenly calm.

"It's _Ivy_," she snapped.

"You know, if you're gonna have an alias, at least start _livin' _up to it. And relax, sweetheart. I'm only getting used to my own two _feet _again!" He sniggered cruelly. "Now then…" he said, in a scarily composed voice.

I heard footsteps approaching closer to the door and I held my shaking breath.

This was it.

It wasn't the reunion I'd been expecting, but it was closest I was ever going to get now.

I couldn't help but jump a mile when the psycho burst through the door like he was Lucifer himself, his hair sticking to his face because of his sweat, grease and most likely his deteriorating makeup. The door was slammed shut as I backed up against the chair in great startle. I panted hard as I saw The Joker sauntering towards me, in his hand he was clutching my tiara that Harley had obviously given to him. He threw it down to my feet and I looked up at him like he was a God above. The intensity he brought the room was immediate, making even me, a girl who never got scared in someone's presence, start to feel like her life was about to end, even if he wasn't loaded with weaponry.

But I always knew he was unpredictable, even when he was just dad, so of course I didn't know what to think.

"Stand up," he instructed.

I immediately did as I was told. There was a sharp edge to his clown voice that sounded even more haunting in person than it did on the TV. I faced him and stood as straight as I could, and dared not to speak. His occurrence was so dominant, like dad's was, but one hundred times more. That became clearer when he started circling around me, observing me with his dark, hungry eyes. He continued circling me like a vulture as I held my breath. The Joker viciously kicked over the chair when he walked behind me, and then stood stiff as I felt his reeking breath on my neck.

"Look at me," he said, almost endearingly.

"Y-Yes…" I trembled.

I turned swiftly around to face him and looked straight into his eyes, wanting to show I wasn't someone he could fool easily. I _was _Princess Jane after all.

"Why'd ya look so scared?" The Joker asked. I shrugged. "Is it the scars?" I quickly shook my head. "You must be Princess Jane. Harley tells me you're the young girl who risked herself getting caught to try and rescue me from Arkham. Is that correct?" I nodded vigorously. "I'd much rather you _talked_ to me," he said, gruffly.

"Y-Yes, that would be me," I said, making my voice sound crisp.

"Ahh…little fighting spirit, are you? Hmm?"

"I'd like to think so."

"And uh…you dressed up in the cop's clothes to get to me? Huh?"

He nodded towards the top I was wearing.

"Yes."

"Hmmm." He kneeled down and my heart beat faster when he picked up the tiara in between his fingers and dangled it in front of my face, giggling mockingly. "I can't help but wonder what ya do with this, girl," he chuckled.

"I wear it," I replied, simply.

"Ahh, I see. And why is that?"

"Because I like wearing it. It helps me get into character."

He stared at it blankly for a very long time, stroking the plastic gems with his gloved fingers. I inhaled quietly and held it, hoping he would start to realise it was me, as it appeared he hadn't recognised I was his daughter at the moment. Maybe the over-doing of the makeup and the crimson-coloured hair was doing it. He had never seen me with the red and black hair before.

"You know…this looks awfully…familiar," he murmured. I didn't say anything. He then fixated his eyes onto my blank face, along with his eyebrows that raised, curiously. It was hard to tell his complete expression through his painted face, so luckily I could read everything in his eyes. "Strange," he said, softly, before throwing it to one side.

He examined me carefully, getting dangerously close to my face, and I could smell his horrid odour evaporate from every inch of him. I tried my best not to look intimidated by him in the slightest, but I felt my heart racing a marathon. I watched him start to pull out something from his pocket, eventually revealing a giant knife out of nowhere, with a blade that looked like it could carve me up within seconds. Joker obviously saw me flinch in surprise, as he then firmly grabbed my arm with a loud grunt, which made me jump even more, a sudden unintentional expression of fright filled up my face.

No, this _couldn't_ be dad, I thought. Dad would have recognised by now, I thought. He would never raise a knife to me, I thought.

I thought wrong.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, hoarsely. "Stay still, will you? I just need to uh…check something. Take those glasses off your face, beautiful."

I shakily removed my glasses and threw them on the floor, joining the tiara. I blinked hard to clear my vision. Joker still had a firm grip of my arm. He lifted the knife and very lightly pushed some hair away from my face. I gasped as he pulled me in closer and with the knife still in his hand he grabbed upon my hair and rubbed the ends in between his fingers before caressing a whole chunk of it with his large hand.

"Such thick hair," he stated, grinning slightly. "Pale face…" He traced my face with the knife, forcing me to feel the coolness of the blade. I had to bit my tongue to not make a sound. "Eyes…brown…a little fighter…comes to rescue me in a silly outfit." He chuckled. "The tiara…hmm…tell me your name, sweetheart."

I swallowed hard.

"J-Jane Price," I answered, stupidly.

He could read my mind, and laughed louder.

"Ahh no, no, no…your _real _name. I know your type."

I don't know what came over me, but I spluttered out, "Only…only if you tell me _your _real name."

He growled as he suddenly grabbed me behind the neck with his hand that had been gripping me by the arm, and his other hand holding the knife came up to hold my face, and he forcefully moved my head so I was looking directly at his clown face.

"Look at me," he snorted. "You don't wanna upset a guy like me, do you?" I shook my head frantically. "Now, I want to know who you are."

"Don't you know that already?" I asked, bravely.

"I think I have an idea," he answered. "All I want is a confirmation. So answer me."

"It's me. _Shaylee_," I whined.

Joker paused for a very long while, looking at me almost expressionless. I thought it pointless to say anymore, so I waited for him to say something.

"Shaylee…" he whispered.

I finally managed to crack a smile, as I saw a tiny part of dad escape from him.

"Hi, Joker," I said, softly.

I knew it would infuriate him if I called him dad at that moment. I wasn't stupid.

"Shaylee…" he said again, the most lovingly he could possibly sound. His voice then went back to being low and dangerous, The Joker voice. "Well…don't you look beautiful?" I couldn't believe that came out of the mouth of a psychopath that had me at knife point. Even if he _was _my father. "You…you look so much like…"

"Diana Jenson?" I filled in.

"Precisely." He continued to trace his eyes up and down my face, while still holding me firmly at knife point. For one brief moment, he almost gave me a dad look, his look of comfort. I could almost see in his eyes that he looked kind of relieved to see me, if it was even possible for him to have feelings now. Perhaps it was. "How'd you like my new looks, Shaylee?" he then asked, softly, in that almost endearing tone again. He didn't take his eyes off me. He licked his lips out of habit.

"It's…it's very, uh…" I attempted to come up with a clever word, but I ended up blabbering out, "…very clownish."

Joker sniggered under his breath, making me shiver.

"Why thank you," he snickered. "And uh…have you missed me? Huh?"

"So much," I answered, my voice now trembling.

"Ah-da-da-da, don't start crying!" He shook me gently, his voice now having a piercing edge. "Now uh, I want you to sit down." He released me and picked up the chair he'd knocked over, and pointed at it with the knife. "Take a seat," he said. I sat down and kept my eyes fixated on the clown, as he started to pace up and down the room like a tiger, burying his knife back into his pocket. "Now, little one," he said. "Whether you're my Shaylee or not, I must ask you some things. Understood?"

"Y-Yes," I answered.

"Okay, if you really are my Shaylee, then I know you're not quite in the correct state of mind," he continued, in his dangerous voice. "Not completely, but just a _little _bit. What do you make of my doings, huh, beautiful? Be truthful, because I'll know if you're lying."

"Truthfully, I think they've been genius," I replied.

He stopped and snapped his head back at me, looking almost intrigued.

"Elaborate," he ordered.

"Well, when you blew that hospital up, I actually sat and watched that," I explained. "Not up close, obviously, but I thought _that _was pretty awesome." I couldn't help my voice suddenly shaking with excitement. "I mean, all you were doing was trying to show this City that it's full of inhabitants ready to lose their minds. And a lot of them did, didn't they? And–"

"Shh." By now The Joker had walked over to where I was sitting and now casually knelt down, leaning his arms on my knees and resting his chin on his arms, smirking at me. "Show me your shoulder," he instructed. "Your left one."

I smiled as I knew exactly what he wanted. I unbuttoned my disguise police top, revealing my purple jacket, which I pushed backwards, as well as pulling my normal t-shirt upwards and displayed my scraped shoulder.

"You mean this?" I asked.

Joker touched it gently with his gloved hand, before poking it hard several times, but I didn't even flinch.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, sinisterly, continuing to prod it solidly.

"No," I answered.

"No?" he repeated.

"Not much."

Joker went back to resting his chin on his hand, but not taking his eyes off me.

"You really _are _my little Shay, aren't ya?" He chuckled evilly under his breath, gripping my nerves. I managed to nod, cautiously. "Tell me more about whatcha think," he said. "I'd be intrigued to know. And just so ya know…I don't give _anyone _the opportunity to speak with me like this. So consider yourself lucky."

I paused as I took a deep breath, looking into his eyes that matched mine.

"Everything you said came true," I said, smiling widely. "You proved that these citizens are nothing but hypocrites and just look what you did…you really _did_ show it! I remember…you always said you loved it when thinks went crazy…but you never said that _anyone _could be broken…I never thought just _anyone _could be."

"Hey, just look what I did to this City with just a few bullets and a couple of detonators. Hmm?" The Joker said. "I just introduced a little anarchy and _every sweet little thing _turned into chaos."

"You can say that again."

"Everything…turned…into chaos. And you know something? I learnt that even the people that are considered the _greatest _in this City, the sanest and contempt...like Dent, for example, I showed that even _he_…could _lose his mind_. He _could _fall."

"Wait…what are you talking about? Harvey Dent is dead."

"Dead is he? Ahh…well he obviously just _lost his mind_ after all." He smirked widely, before closing his eyes, a look of sheer pleasure plastered his face. He leaned in closer, up to my face reopening his eyes. "You seem like one of those rare few who actually see some _sense _in what I'm doin', huh?"

"Of course, I should know. I know what you've been through. I know why you're doing it."

"I no longer think about the past. It's all...about looking into the _future_."

"Why _did_ you just disappear for two years?"

"That doesn't matter. I'm _here now_."

"But why…why didn't you come back for me?"

"Quiet!" he snarled.

"But I've been through hell…"

"_So have I_."

"But–"

"What did I just…say…little girl?"

I gulped visibly hard. "You…you don't think about the past anymore," I answered, feeling my heart sinking helplessly.

"Very good," The Joker said, sounding calm again. "I heard about the Batman, and I thought he sounded like fun to mess around with…this city…it deserved a _better _type of criminal…so I wanted to show that to 'em."

He nodded questionably, and I nodded in return, to show I understood.

"You just wanted to show everyone's exactly like you?" I asked.

"In some ways, little girl, yes," he replied.

I nodded, slowly. "You proved…even the most _unbreakable _of minds can be broken…I mean…you broke Dent…didn't you?"

"Mmm-hmm." He then rose to his feet and towered above me, still looking down on my absorbed expression, and I smiled up at him, starting to see a little bit of dad beneath the makeup. "Tell me, Shaylee…who is this _Jane_?" he asked, revealing the knife from his pocket again and starting to fidget with it in between his fingers. "This…this Jane Price that Harley was talking about. Tell me about her."

"She's my alter-ego," I answered.

"Show me," he said.

"What…what do you mean?" I stammered.

"I mean…show me. Show me what she looks like. Properly. Let's see underneath that disguise."

I nervously stood up and started taking off my disguise, unbuttoning the cop shirt and throwing it to one side, revealing my crowned crop top and purple jacket. My skirt was already on as were my boots and gloves. I straightened up Bradley's purple school tie as it had gotten very creased. I caressed my hair and waggled my pigtails to show them off, and finally I gently picked up the tiara on the floor and placed it on my head, making sure it was firmly on this time. I smiled positively at him.

"Ta-da," I exclaimed, hopefully.

"Very beautiful," The Joker said, nodding. "But, uh…there's a little _problem_."

"W-What? What's that?"

"Stay here, sit down and shut your eyes," he said. "I'll be back." I did exactly that, before hearing him call, "_Ivy_!"

I waited anxiously for something to happen, with all sorts of thoughts running through my mind. I couldn't believe how calm he was around me, considering he was a raging psychopath. He still talked in that clown voice like he was a different man, yet managed to sound like dad sometimes. I knew by his crafty expression he was planning to do something with me.

It wasn't long before I heard footsteps approaching, and then a presence come before me, but I kept my eyes shut and mouth closed.

I heard him rustling with something, and then a rough touch of a cold hand pinched my bare skin, as something cool and creamy was being smeared onto my forehead, making me gasp in shock.

"Ah-ah-ah…don't move," I heard The Joker say. "Stop squirming." It then continued to be ran over my entire face, even over my ears and halfway down my neck. It still make my heart pound, but it was almost began to feel refreshing after a while. Then something was splattered around my eyes, followed by The Joker giggling. I heard him lick his lips. "Keep staying still like a good girl," he chuckled.

I did, but this time I listened carefully. My ears were filled by a quiet scratching of a blade, making an unwanted whimper escape my lips. The Joker chuckled coldly again, but this time sounding more friendly. I heard the blade scraping again, only to then feel my left pigtail be harshly tugged upon.

"Uhh, what are you doing?!" I squealed. "Ouch!"

Joker laughed. "Aw, does that _hurt_?" he asked, mockingly.

"N-No…it…was just…unexpected," I mumbled.

"Too right," said Joker, licking his lips that he had been doing repeatedly throughout our encounter, like a hungry snake. "Now keep still and keep your eyes shut, along with that big mouth I'm most fond off." My head jerked to the side as he tugged upon the pigtail some more. I could still feel my hair brush ever so tenderly on my now creamy cheek, but that soon was gone when I felt my entire pigtail plunge onto the floor, as did my bobble. I yelped as the other one plummeted from my head, but I daren't open my eyes again. I kept holding onto my quivering breath. It wasn't because I was scared, it was from the shock. "Time to open those eyes now," The Joker instructed.

I did so, immediately touching my hair as I did. I glanced down desperately at the carpet, where my two crimson-dyed pigtails were now spread out across the floor, almost in a pretty pattern. I touched my head again, to feel the thickness of my hair remained, but not the length. I looked back up at The Joker who was clutching onto a pair of large scissors with sharp blades, and he scraped the blades together, joyously, before carelessly throwing them to one side. It felt so peculiar. Not just my hair being short but all of _me _felt peculiar. I touched my face gently, looking back The Joker before me, who looked like he couldn't care less.

"Wh-What have you done?" I questioned him.

"Making you look more like a Jane and not a Shaylee," he chortled.

"What do you mean?"

"Stop questioning it! Look, I could _still tell _it was you, Shaylee, even with you dressed up like that, I could clearly tell it was you." He paused, as he examined me more. "In fact, let's get rid of _this_, too," he grunted. He sauntered towards me, and unpredictably grabbed my purple jacket, forcing me to take it off. Once I did, he threw it behind him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when his eyes met my arm, obviously gazing at the long gloves I was wearing, which were now far more visible. His eyes snapped back up to my face. "So tell me," he said, gruffly. "What made you dress up as someone else to come and find me, hmm?"

"So, so…I wasn't recognised by the police," I answered, still in shock from my hair being snapped off.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I…I've been caught a few times…"

"Ahhh…it appears you haven't been _behaving_ in my absence, have you?"

"I've been to jail three times."

"Aw, was that because your daddy had gone missing? You rebellious little girl. You went a bit mad and went off the rails, huh?" I nodded. "Well, guess what, pretty face? Your father is _dead_. _I _killed him. So there's uh…_more _of a reason to be a _little _crazy now…"

"I…I know…"

"Come here." I walked slowly up to him, where he pulled me in closer, keeping me in his grasp by holding my wrist with one hand and bringing out the knife again with the other and hovering it to my face. "You've taken after him a lot, haven't ya?" he inquired.

"Yes."

"And are you pleased about that?"

"Yes."

"Good, because _I am_, too."

"You are?"

"Of course. Look what you did tonight. Barged right into Arkham wanting to get me…of _all people_…outta there? Hmm? And you know what I noticed? Your mind's become corruptive. Hasn't it? So much so, you feel like you have to become someone else to do what you wanna do? Is that correct?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"And now I've helped you with that. You look like a different person now. You look more like _me_ now, with ya new makeup."

"I'm wearing _clown makeup_?" I gasped, as I started to squirm in shock.

"Keep still!" he shouted. I immediately did. "Look." He released me and walked over to a side table where Ivy had piled books, but on top of that pile was a handmirror. He picked it up and quite literally shoved it into my face, using his hand armed with the knife to forcefully move my head to look at my reflection. "You don't look like that pesky Diana so much now with that on," The Joker went on. "That's gonna help _me _more, and I think it'll help _you _more because you look _very _different now. Don't you?"

"Yes…" I said, breathily.

The Joker had covered my face in some of his makeup, which I noticed later was in a large tub on the side. At first I was hardly recognisable, _just _like dad had been when I first saw him as The Joker on the television. The black painted around my eyes made my chocolate brown eyes look even darker. It made me _feel _darker. I'd always said I should have cut my hair, and although at first it looked too short for my liking, the more I gazed at it the more I actually looked like the character I had drawn. Although…it was much shorter than I drew Jane's, and obviously uneven because The Joker just simply cut my hair without thinking about the length, it actually looked kinda neat. It still had a gentle curl in it, but the more I looked at my reflection dressed as Princess Jane, the more I felt like I was her inside, the innocent fictional character I had created. Not completely, but she was there. Sort of. She looked more maniacal and mentally distressed than I had created, but I guess that was the beauty of it. That part was me. That was actually Shaylee. So I was staring at myself, _and _another girl.

"I think you may be getting a bit fascinated there, huh?" The Joker sniggered. He threw away the mirror and almost cut me with the knife as he did, but I was so captivated with what I'd just seen, I didn't notice that much. I didn't even react when Joker pulled me into knife point again. "Look at me," he snarled.

I did so, and he smirked at my almost brainwashed face. I _wasn't _brainwashed though, just in a moment of delicious wonder. It took me a while for words to break out of my lips.

"What are you planning to do with me?" I asked Joker, with that unstoppable breathy voice again.

"I don't _plan_, remember? All I wanna do is make sure this Jane person isn't _so much _different to my Shaylee, okay? She may look a little different, but they may not _act _like it. Hmm? Remember…years ago…when you used to threaten people, nick stuff and be all _crazy_? You remember, huh? Didn't you just love it when you had a little coward in your grasp, knowing you had the upper hand?"

"Yes, I've done it loads of times now."

"But have you ever…finished 'em off? Gone all the way, huh?"

"What…what do you mean?"

"It's not a difficult question. Have you _killed _anyone, my little one?"

"N-No…" I said, truthfully, shaking my head.

"No?" The Joker sounded shocked.

"I…I've _stabbed _someone before, but they didn't die…it, uh…cause some serious damage to him, though…"

Joker laughed insanely at my confused face. "That's adorable," he giggled. "A stupid boy, was it?"

"Of course."

"You've _loved _seeing all these things I've been getting up to, then, huh?"

"Yes…"

"And you want to see more of that, don't you?"

"But…but why would you need to do _more_? You've _won_. You made Dent lose his mind and showed this City the chaos it needed. What else do you need to do? You can't just–"

"My social experiment _failed_. I do not wish to be _humiliated _like that again."

"But–"

"Quiet! Listen…you're a smart girl, aren't you? You'll know this. Who is Batman's link to the police, hmm?"

"I guess…Commissioner Gordon is…"

"Now Dent's gone…The Batman can _only _turn and whine to Gordon, so what would happen if we made Gordon, uh…see the light? You know? _Break him_. If I did that…hmm…if I did _that_…"

"How could you possibly do that?" I asked.

"With a little _help _from nice fresh young _bait_. You know something? I've only had idiot men helping me recently…I would usually _never _consider a _girl _to join my team because they all appear to be a bit _frail_…a bit…scared to kill, but you know…why not have a change of heart? I always say there's room for a _little expansion_. So would Jane like to join our team? Because if she don't feel up to it, I could just get rid of her, you know." He nodded at me, looking deadly serious. My petrified face stretched more across my forehead as he lowered the knife to my throat. "Besides, if Harley Quinn is joining, which I will not be planning to restrain because _she _is _always _obedient…she'll need a female fighter beside her won't she? A little, uh..._girl power_, huh? If such thing _exists _in a man's world."

"My full name…is Princess Jane Price," I corrected.

"And does she wish to comp_ly_?" The Joker's voice became more disdainful as he put the knife nearer my throat, digging it in further. I choked loudly. "I'll do it, you know," he whispered. "I _will_ do it, princess."

"You would _never_," I whimpered.

"Oh believe me, I _will_."

"But…but…"

"Ah-ah-ah…you either _do as you are told_…or you _die_. Is that fair enough, sweetie?"

"So…let me get this straight, you want me to join you, and if I don't, you're going to _kill _me?"

"I would have thought you would _want _to come along and help me, you have _missed me_, haven't you? I can tell you just want a little taste of that anarchy. You have that twinkle in your eyes that _I _have, and I'll promise you one thing, _Princess Jane_. I'll nurse you and treat you like a _lady _in the gang and if you please me you'll be my favourite, because you _are _my little girl, after all, aren't you?"

I couldn't help but smile at that comment.

"Yes, yes I am," I said.

"And I've _never ever _forgotten about ya, you know…in fact…you've driven me a little _crazier _than usual…even when you _haven't _been there. So…if we upset the established order a bit more, and get rid of the Commissioner, and if we make him see the light…think of all the _chaos _it'll create. I'm an agent of chaos. I hand it out to people. It's fair."

"But it involves killing people, doesn't it?"

"Of course."

"But I…"

"Oh shush, shush, shush…" He giggled. "Seems like I'm gonna have to _drill _some things in your mind, _Jane_."

"Oh I'm prepared to kill people," I said, all of a sudden. "My mind tells me to do it a lot. I…I just never _can_. Not when my mind seems…normal. Something holds me back, and I…I try to, but…it…it never works…I don't know what it is."

"Why don't you prove it to me then, hmm? Oh and uh, a little deal we need to make, okay? This is something I do with _all _my idiot goons, but there's something a little _extra _for you. When we're out, doing business, I am your boss. _I _rule this gang, soon this _city_. When we're alone, discussing, having quiet time, _then _you can call me daddy, because, even know I'm a clown now, I _am _still your father, aren't I? So I'm still in charge of you. _I _lay down the rules, still. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly."

He finally removed himself away from me, and all of a sudden left the room. Within one minute he returned, holding a simple handgun in his hand, which I had no idea where he got from.

"Here," he said, slamming it into my hand. "And don't look so frightened. We're going to have some _fun_, aren't we, your highness?"

"Yes," I replied, not noticing I was smiling.

"You're a smart girl. You're very wise for accepting my offer. Now you have to live up to it, because if you _don't_…you're _out_. Gone. Done with. I don't really want that, because I see a lot of fight in you…which is why, I'm going to remind you of the _good old days _when we went out causing commotion together, because I can't help but sense a little _nervousness _in you, darling. I wonder why you're like a _bag of nerves_. I recall you being so much more _confident_ and less _fragile _than that."

"But…but what…?"

"Hmm?"

"I…I'm _not _scared."

"Oh don't contradict me, Jane. I _know _you are. But because I'm a good man, I'm going to, uhh…help you. Help ya with tour self-esteem, get it back in ya again."

"I still have it _in _me."

"Well then…why don't ya show me, then? After all, angel face, _I _can't be the one doing this _forever_, can I? So let's give someone else a chance. Accept _now_, we're different people. Not Shaylee and…_that guy_…you understand?"

"Of course, daddy."

"I can see you smiling there. You gonna prove you're a good girl, huh?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Now, uh…where to begin?" He started pacing up and down again, with his hunched shoulders again, and I traced him with my eyes. "Now here's a question," he said. "Who do you hate more than _anyone _in the _whole world_?"

"The Batman."

"Oh no, no, no…he is still _mine _to deal with. Someone else, please."

It didn't take me a second to answer. "Larry Torres."

Joker froze, and stared ahead of him. I held my breath.

"Torres?" he muttered. "That man…"

"Forget him," I spluttered, feeling his anger. I daren't frustrate him further. "He's probably already dead. I'll think of someone else, uhh…"

"Is he dead?" The Joker asked, still not looking at me.

"Uh…_isn't _he?" I stuttered. "I thought…you…would have killed him…by now. You know, after everything he did, I would have thought he of all people would be the first you went out and killed."

"Ah, but he wasn't," The Joker explained. "I have not laid a finger on him…not for a while. You see, he was still in _jail _when I escaped…I don't know what happened to him…but I do hope he's _rotting_…slowly."

"But what if he isn't dead?"

That's when he finally looked at me with predatory eyes, and licked his lips again. He did not say a word, but started pacing up and down again, this time much more slowly.

From the back of my mind, I heard the evil whispers: _Revenge…revenge, Shaylee_.

I waited again for The Joker to speak.

"What do you, uh..._propose _then, sweetheart?" he asked, callously.

"Well, if he _isn't _dead…then…"

"Yes…"

"He _should _be."

"Tell me why."

"Why? Well because…if it weren't for him, mom…I mean Diana…well, she'd still be alive!"

"No thanks to Harley for that either."

"But Harley…didn't _mean _to kill her…remember, dad?" He looked at me sharply. "Joker. Look, he…he is scum. Forget about the guys on the boat the other day, forget _you_…_he_…he's the scum of the earth."

Joker had now stopped in his tracks and was looking directly into my eyes. I held my breath as he began to walk straight up into my face, but I had got used to it so quickly I didn't even flinch. His gradual smirk made him looked pleased with me.

"Look what's in your hand," he said. I lifted up the surprisingly light handgun, but then gazed straight back at The Joker's face. "Something you need to learn, little girl. In this universe, the only sensible way to live, is to fight…fight for what _you _believe in. For what's fair."

"You're absolutely right."

"Of course I am. So what's right in _your _mind?"

I listened to the voices that were starting to increase with their raucous whispers. I listened closely. Maybe this time they would tell me the right thing.

"They say…revenge," I said, quietly. "Revenge."

Joker dug in his pocket, once again revealing the knife. He stroked the blade and looked it, almost lovingly. It gripped my heart with fear.

"Consider it done, then, hmm?" he finally said.

"Wh-What do you mean?" I asked, timidly.

"Well if Mr. Torres is still alive, then…then why not take this as a little starting point for you, huh? You even…you even said you've never killed anyone because something's…held you back. What _is _that thing?"

"I…I don't know."

"Hmm…well whatever that little coward is that's holding you _back_…we'll soon get rid of that."

"You mean…you mean we're going to go and murder him?"

"Why? Is there a little _problem_?"

"N-No! No…I mean…I mean…isn't that a little bit…_pointless _for you? You said you wanted to–"

"Pointless? _Pointless_?" The Joker sniggered nastily. "_Nothing _I do is pointless. Besides, it won't be _me _who's going to kill the guy. No, no, no…you are."

"Wh-What?"

"Let's think about this, your highness. Torres was someone who _ruined _both of us…but I'd say…more _you _than me. If I want a little bit of young blood to escort me in getting rid of the Commissioner…I gotta know if she's faithful, haven't I? I'll come with ya."

"Are…are you serious?"

"Are _you _serious?"

"About wanting him dead?"

"Yes."

"Well…yes…"

"Then let's not waste any more time. Let's go party, princess."

"But won't you get caught?"

Joker burst into laughter.

"Oh no!" he said, gleefully. "And if they _did_, I know I have _someone _who's willing to help me out again, huh? You remind me of Diana, you know…you _worry _too much."

"It's the schizophrenia. Makes me _paranoid_."

"Ah, yes, the Devil itself."

"But how do we know where Larry is?"

"Well, uh…logically, I presume he'd be in his rusty little tavern feeling _sorry _for himself. That is, if he's out of jail."

"Can we go then?"

Joker sniggered as he harshly grabbed my face with the knife in his hand.

"Look at you…the _little girl _wanting to go and murder someone so _readily_."

"How we going to get there?"

"You know you ask too many questions. We'll borrow Ivy's van."

"Will she mind?"

"If she _does_ she'll be getting a battering. But first…" He picked up my jacket off the floor, letting me go as he did. "Don't think you'll be needing this anymore. Stay here." He began to walk out of the room. "_Harley_!" he shouted, sounding the most like dad he'd been since I saw him again.

"What?" I heard Harley call from down the hallway.

"Get here!" Joker commanded.

"What is it, puddin'?" Harley cooed.

"Dispose of this," Joker said.

"Princess Jane's jacket?" Harley gasped. "But _why_? It's cute."

"Do as I say and get rid of it, okay, darling?" Joker said, coldly.

"Y-yes, sir," she whimpered.

"I'm not your boss _just _yet," he snapped.

"How'd ya want it gotten rid of?"

"Set fire to it, put it in the bin, I don't know! Once you've done that, get some of those disguise masks, I _know _Ivy keeps some here."

"Sure thing, Mister J."

The Joker entered the room again, but I had not moved from where I had been standing. I could barely hear him walking, as my mind had started racking hard. The Joker stared at me with his captivating eyes, but I just couldn't believe what was happening, so much so that I couldn't move, let alone speak.

He moved closer towards me, and I followed him with my eyes.

"You wanna know how I got these scars?" he asked.

My eyes widened. I saw his knife was being twirled in his hand as he came closer.

"I…I already know," I murmured.

"If I remember rightly I didn't raise you to _mumble_," he snarled. "It may be something Jane does…but I shouldn't a princess always speak _clearly_?" That's when he grabbed me and held me at knife point again, but this time I could feel his anger. The stench of his breath made me wince, making it even harder to spout out any words. "Well, do you wanna know or _not_?" he spat. "Look at me, you little imp." I made my eyes rise up to his. "You _don't _know…you _don't _know how it happened."

"The…the night you tried to commit suicide," I bravely stammered, "that night, it said on the news your face had been damaged–aah!"

I yelpt when he dug the knife into my cheek, creating a sense of fear but also strange adrenaline.

"If you're going to believe what they say on the _news_ then you'll believe _anything_," Joker hissed into my face.

"But you–"

"Shh-hh-hh…" he whispered. "I really do need to work that little mind of yours, don't I?" He snickered under his breath. "Shortly after I departed from hospital, Harley took me in," he explained. "For several months _all _was well…until that day were I _foolishly _went out…because my mind, you see…it wanted me to…take revenge. Harley and I, we…we went and visited Larry in jail…in our disgusies as his brother and wife we were let in. You can imagine the kill in his eyes when he saw us, but Harley's clever, you know. She brought weapons with her. Larry goes for me first, but I soon pin him down. He says, 'Why have you turned into a crazy killer?' Of course, I hated that. I. Hated. It. Harley says, 'J, I have this to teach 'im a lesson', and passes me a razor, a sharp one. I put it close to his face, but I underestimated his strength…he pushes me back up…and snatches the razor off me. Pushes Harley to the ground, grabs me, and I'll never forget this, he said, 'Let's put a _smile _on the big man's face!' Sticks it in my mouth and carves a wonderful scarred smile. So I'm never serious anymore."

"Did he really do that?" I asked, sounding uncertain.

"I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" he queried.

"No, of course not."

He released me with an overpowering push, making me stumble over my heels, but I restrained from falling to the ground by grabbing onto the chair. I looked up to see Harley had entered the room, carrying two clown masks in her hand.

"Here ya are, Mister J," she giggled.

Joker aggressively snatched them off her and threw one down at my feet. He faced Harley abruptly and she backed away slightly.

"See that Ivy has her van ready for me, right now," he ordered like an army general. "For me and her ladyship. Not for you, before you open your nasty mouth."

"Aw, but…oh, okay, J. Of course," Harley stammered. She glanced at me. "Oh my god, what happened to your _hair_?"

"Jane doesn't have pigtails," I replied, like I was possessed. "I didn't make her like that."

Harley didn't move.

"Will I have to drill _sense_ into you too, Harley?" Joker asked, raising his knife to her face, warningly.

"Nope, I'm goin'," Harley said and skipped out of the room.

"Such a faithful girl she is," he muttered. "_So _faithful she didn't help me these past few days, hmm?" He faced me again. By now I had picked up the mask he had thrown at my feet, and was tenderly stroking it with my fingers. "Why so nervous, Princess Jane?" I looked up to see Joker smirking craftily at me. "Do you think it's better not to wear one of those, beautiful?"

"Oh no, I…of course it's better to disguise ourselves," I replied. "We don't want to get caught, do we?"

"You're a good girl," he chuckled.

"Puddin'! Van's ready!" Harley called from the hallway.

"Put it on," Joker ordered me. I did exactly that, and through the eyes of the mask I saw him cover his own face, too. "Be careful with that gun, it's precious to me," he said. He outstretched his arm. "Come here." I grinned beneath me mask as I trotted over. Joker violently pulled me closer to him and placed his arm around my shoulders, just like dad did years ago. "Why so tense?" he whispered. "I know I'm a _little _scary…but it's okay." I slowly rested my head on his shoulder. "Hmm…being this way has its faults you know. I've missed a cuddle from you, ya know. Now let's go." I followed him out of the room, holding onto my gun firmly. Just before we reached the door, he swiftly turned to face me again. "Something you should know," he said. "This is something I tell to _all _the unfortunate people who have the displeasure of working for me. One bad move, and you're gone."

"Yeah, you said that," I pointed out.

"Ah, but do you know what I mean by that?"

It's a good job he couldn't see my face of shock realisation underneath the mask.

"You…you mean you just kill them?" I asked.

"You're a smart little girl," he said.

"I'm not little, I'm seventeen."

"And who are you?"

"Jane Price…no…_Princess _Jane Price."

The Joker exploded into insane laughter, and I desperately tried to hold myself from laughing along, but I just couldn't help myself. Our laughter echoed as we walked to Ivy's van that was parked outside, and we were still laughing when we climbed in. It had started bashing with rain, but didn't bother me in the slightest. It actually made the rush that had slowly been rising up inside of me start to heat up until I felt swirling infernos blowing through me, preparing me.

This was _just _like old times. Except…more insane. Well, at least on his part. I wasn't insane. I was just having fun.

As we sped through the quiet streets of Gotham, I let the window down and allowed the wind to batter against my mask, although I was disappointed I could not feel the wind in my hair no more.

"Joker?" I said, after a while.

"Mmm?" he mumbled.

"What if he's not there?"

"Then we'll keep looking. I'm not...letting him get away this time. I want to see the light leave his eyes, the little coward. You know what he's going to say? He'll say he's totally innocent and turned his _whole _life around."

"Doesn't change the past though, does it?"

"Correct. I can't wait to see his scared little face. If he really _is _a man then he'll have the _balls _to join me…"

"But that can't happen!"

"Why ever not?"

"Because he'll just try to kill you!"

Joker laughed hard.

"Oh you _are _hilarious, Princess Jane! _Kill _me? Sweetheart, I'm a walking nightmare! So that's why I'm gonna test him a little bit, hmm? See if he really _is _a coward, because in one's last moments, they show you…"

"Who you really are," I finished.

"You trust me, doncha?"

"Of course!"

He shook with obvious adrenaline and jumped like an excited schoolboy in his seat.

"I _love _my job, I love it, I love it!" he growled.

It wasn't long before the break screeched to a halt outside the long line of buildings near a quiet side of Gotham City. I leaned through the open window to double-check we'd arrived at the right place. It was very quiet for a few moments. I gripped onto the gun tighter.

_Such a lovely place_, my mind said. _The place where you were tricked into thinking you were in the safety of a lying, deceitful scumbag_.

"This…this place…" I whispered.

"So much pain," Joker added, sounding like dad.

"Yeah…"

"What are you waiting for? Go on in and see if he's there."

"But...but I thought _you _were coming."

"I will, I will…just after I sort out my war paint. Can't be me if it's starting to crumble, now can I? I'm sure Ivy's loaded some in the boot."

"Are…are you sure about this?"

"You're not nervous, are you?"

"No."

I immediately got out of the van when I heard the sharpness to his voice again.

With the gun in my hand, I approached the alleyway that showed all the buildings' entrances. I tiptoed past them all until I reached the very last one, peering upwards so I saw the faded plaque 'Joey's Tavern' falling off the wall, just how I remembered. The door, which also was hanging loose as I remembered, was opened widely. I pinned myself against the wall and listened closely.

But all I could hear was: _Revenge, kill, revenge, kill_.

Fuck you, brain. Seriously.

I hated the fact the floor was creaky as I stepped onto it with my heel. I stopped and panted hard, but I heard nothing. I stepped fully into the tavern, rubbing my hand against the wall to look for the light switch. Once I found it, I flicked it on, where an empty tavern bar was revealed, set up exactly like it had been seven years ago. I traced my eyes around the room, hastily, but I saw no signs of Larry.

"Larry Torres!" I yelled, out of a sudden burst of anger. "Show yourself!" Nothing. "I said _show yourself_!"

Then I heard banging coming from up the stairs, so I immediately darted my gun in that direction. Although I felt the adrenaline, my arm was shaking.

I shot my head up towards the stairs when I saw a figure loom down. Larry revealed himself, and he came down wearing a dressing gown, and in his hand he held a gun of his own. He made his way down to the bottom but didn't move. He slowly raised his gun towards me, but I kept mine firmly towards him, standing in the doorway like I meant business. Because I did.

"W-Who are you?" Larry asked, his voice croaking like he was seriously suffering badly from drugs. "What do you want? If…if you want my money, you can't have it."

"I don't want your money," I snapped. "I'm just here for uh…for…for my own _benefit_, is what I should say."

"Who _are _you?" he demanded.

I lifted my free hand and revealed myself by taking the mask away, and throwing it to the side.

"I am Princess Jane Price," I answered. "And am I glad to see _you_."

"What do you want?" Larry commanded, looking at me, disgustingly. "Get…get out of my house!"

"It's a tavern, sweetie," I giggled. "And I think for your own good, I'd put the gun down." Larry didn't move. "Put it down." He still stood stiff. My unpredictable anger suddenly exploded without warning. "I said _put it DOWN_!" I screamed. I blasted a bullet in a random direction, to which I shattered some glass at the bar. Trembling, Larry did as he was told. "That's better," I said, calmly. "Now, did you say you have money?" I started sauntering towards him. "Where you get that from then, hmm?"

"You're not taking _anything _from me," he spluttered, pathetically.

"Shut up and answer the question! Where'd you get your money? You obviously don't _earn _it."

"What's it to you?"

"Everything. Now answer me or be shot."

"I get my own money."

"Stealing?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Oooh…well shouldn't you be _locked up _for that? You're worth _nothing_. Stealing your way to _victory _gets you nowhere, my friend. _Doing _things does, though."

"Who are you?"

"Oh God, I already _told _you!"

"But…you look like someone who would work for…"

"The Joker?"

"You don't work with him, do you?"

"Not until recently."

"What does _he _want with me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you should ask him that when he arrives."

"You…you _what_?"

"You heard me."

By now I was very close to him, about a step away. He looked terrified, making me realise The Joker was right all along. He _was _nothing but a coward.

I knew I should wait for The Joker to arrive, but my mind was yelling at me, preparing me to kill, just as it'd done many times, but I still never had.

Just then, as I was listening the voices, I heard a menacing voice behind me: "Ah, there she is, my faithful little murderer."

I turned around in surprise to see The Joker standing in the darkened doorway. He walked in slowly, his footsteps echoing as he crept in like a lion sneaking up on its prey, with his hunched shoulders. Although the room was dimly lit, I could see the desire to kill in his callous dark eyes. He looked completely menacing now with his clown mask off, with his Glasgow smile and terrifying stare.

I smirked as he entered the tavern, his precious re-painted white face was dripping down his face onto his neck because of the rain outside, along with his soaking wet hair, which was also dripping from grease. I firmly clung onto the gun in my hand, keeping it pointed towards Larry, who by now was looking flustered by The Joker entering his tavern.

The Joker eventually joined me, eyeing me up and down, before revealing a knife from his pocket fiddling with it in his hand.

"Hi, Joker," I greeted, cheerfully.

"Princess Jane," he said, grinning and bowing his head, politely. "Your highness." I giggled at his comical greeting. He ruffled my short hair, making me squeal playfully. "Well done."

His eyes were flicking lazily, I presumed to stop his voices arguing.

Larry was squinting his eyes at the both of us. It took the idiot a while to realise Gotham's criminal mastermind was in his presence.

"Oh my god…" he stuttered. "You really _are_–"

"Don't you _know_ who he is?!" I shouted at him, pointing the gun closer to his face.

"Ah-ah-ah…._calm down_, now, PJ," The Joker said, calmly in his dangerous soft voice that sounded like dad. He rummaged through his pocket and delicately revealed one of my Joker cards, that seemed to have appeared magically. "Here's my card," he said, displaying it in front of Larry's face.

I beamed brightly. He really _was _still using my ten-year-old designs all the time. It bizarrely made my heart smile.

"The Joker…" Larry stated.

"How observant," I said, sarcastically.

Joker spluttered into insane sniggers as he chucked the card away on the floor.

"Ahh, doesn't this place just bring back _memories_?" he sighed, as he now walked behind me, like a stalking predator.

I was still bearing the gun at Larry. I felt the Joker's hot breath on my neck.

"Sure does," I said.

"Wh-What…?" Larry stammered.

"Shut up!" I snapped.

I felt pleased he didn't recognise me with my painted face and newly-dyed crimson hair that had been cut to max.

Joker snickered again as he suddenly hugged me around the back, roughly, making me gasp quietly in surprise. His wet coat made my own purple top drip with rain water, and his warm breath panted onto my own clown-painted face and he grinned widely at me, showing me his yellow teeth.

"Aw, did I make you jump?" he chuckled into my ear.

"No, sir," I replied, obediently.

"Good girl," he murmured, sounding pleased.

My head started to reel more as Joker gently started to trace his knife on my neck, still clinging onto me around my waist, making sure I didn't escape his grasp. Although I felt my heart starting to race, I allowed him to do it. I knew this was to test my strength and to prepare me for the kill.

"Wh-Who _are _you freaks?" Larry suddenly asked, his voice shaking like leaves.

I inhaled sharply as Joker angrily gripped onto me tighter, digging the knife into my neck more. I didn't dare show weakness, so I held my breath as I managed to keep the gun pointing at our victim. I wasn't sure if Joker buried the knife into my neck more intentionally, but it certainly made an impact. I felt the searing jab from the knife and bit onto my bottom lip to prevent myself from yelling in agony. It was unbearably tormenting, but at the same time, it made a rush of disturbing pleasure run through me, the rush that I loved.

"_Freaks_?" Joker hissed. He then harshly put his face on mine, lowering his gravelly voice. His face paint smeared onto my own. "Tell him we're _not_," he commanded.

"We're not," I repeated, emphasising the t.

Joker relaxed a little bit more, removing the knife from my neck but still holding it loosely in his hand, which he now slowly put around my waist along with his other arm. His head rested on my scarred shoulder, but now he'd relaxed it almost felt like he was giving me a reassuring, affectionate hug. A dad hug. I felt a small drip of blood run down my neck from where the knife had been, making me gasp in shock. Not in pain, but in surprise.

Joker darted his head at me when I gasped and I felt my heart pound as I was expecting him to punish me because I was showing helplessness, but to my surprise he started to stroke my neck lightly with his gloved hand, rubbing the blood away, despite still holding the knife.

"Let me get rid of _that_," he whispered. I whined quietly. "Shush, shush, shush." He then slowly put his arm around my waist again, once again keeping me right in his grip. "Better now, Jane?" he asked, softly.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, sir," I answered, keeping the gun pointed forward.

I started to feel more relaxed, now I knew for sure that he was protecting me as well as 'training' me.

Joker rested his head on my shoulder again.

"You know…" he said, "I'm a little…_disappointed_."

My heart pounded.

"W-Why's that?" I asked, nervously.

"Not with you, not with you, shh-hh-hh…" he whispered, making me sigh with relief, quietly. "With _him_." Larry was staring at The Joker. A large grin grew upon my lips as The Joker continued. "He doesn't know an old friend when he sees one. Hmm?"

"Maybe you've done something to your hair," I laughed.

We both spluttered into raucous cackles as Larry began to look more and more terrified. Excellent.

"Maybe you should, uh…_remind him_?" Joker giggled into my ear. I turned my head and smirked at him. "Oh, and PJ?"

"Yes?"

"People…people listen to you better if you put the gun _right to their face_." He snickered. "You know that, right?"

"Of course," I answered, immediately.

"_There's _a good little girl."

He finally let go of me, dragging his knife across my throat once more just before I was completely free of his grasp. I took in the knife's cool metal as it dragged across me. I knew he did that to give me the adrenaline rush, and it certainly worked.

Joker gave me a nod as he casually leaned against the bar to observe me, and I instantly dug my gun into Larry's throat, pinning him against the nearest wall with a loud thud.

"Get out of here, you crazy little bitch!" he yelled at me, making my brain rack harder.

"Ah-da-da-da…" Joker cut in. "That's no way to speak to a lady. Let's not get off…to a _bad start_. You don't want _that_ now, huh?"

I glanced at Larry, smirking, who simply replied, "N-No."

"Treat my favourite thug with respect then, kind sir." I giggled as I prodded Larry's neck with my gun, making Joker laugh loudly. "Tell 'im what we want," he ordered to me in his excited 'clown' voice. "Tell 'im what we're here for, little one."

"Little one?" Larry gasped. "How old _are you_…?"

"Ahh! Won't I _ever _get the chance to talk?!" I yelled. That made him shut up. It even made the Joker quieten down, making me feel enormously proud. Voices were yelling at me, I _had _to shut them up so I could listen to them. "Doncha you recognise me, Larry Torres?" I said in a mocking tone.

"How _do _you know my name?"

"Shush, shush, shush…shush. It's rude to talk over people. Especially royalty. Now. You remember, say…seven years ago? Or you so high on drugs you can't remember that far back? Hmm? Well, I visited this place seven years ago. With my daddy. My daddy was a friend of yours. Remember? I even saw you _two _years ago. When I discovered how much of a coward and an obsessive money-grabbing _freak _you were! He still says he has a lot of money that he didn't _earn_, you know, Joker." Larry continued to curiously look at me, still looking like a frightened little child. He attempted to glance over to The Joker, but I fiercely put his head back with the gun. I _hated _it when people didn't look at me while I was talking to them. "Hey! Look at me!" I hissed, wanting to impress Joker.

"Remember what I said about cowards in this city?" Joker said, hoarsely. "Here's living proof. Scared of a _little girl_."

"I'm _not _a little girl, J."

"Ooh-hoo-hoo…now _that's _the attitude I like to see!" Joker said, nodding. "So many of my thugs didn't like to answer back. I much rather they did. I like that. Shows you can..._defend _yourself. But then again, if they answered me something _terrible_, like, uh…_telling me _what I _should _be doin' instead of just doin' it, then, uh…well…then I'd have to, uh, think twice about letting 'em live."

I smiled proudly as I focused back on the coward in my mercy.

"Do you remember now, huh?" I scolded.

It took him a few moments, but this his mouth dropped open and his forehead creased with shock as the memories came flooding back to his mind.

"S-Shaylee?" I didn't answer because that wasn't my name anymore. "J-Jack?" He dared to try and look at him.

"Look at _me_!" I yelled.

Larry's voice trembled. "No…no it can't be…Jack Napier?"

"Jack Napier? Who's this _Jack_, sir?" I asked, pretending to look curious.

The Joker came forward, licking his lips out of habit. He came dauntingly close to both of our faces, but I continued smirking, while Larry continued to look terrified.

"Uhh…if I recall correctly, this Jack he's referring to…he _died _a long time ago," he explained, his voice dripping with distain. "_Well_…his _body _didn't…the _man _died because someone…some_thing_…controlled him. Jack was nothing but a useless coward who _had _nothing because he _lost_ everything because of his own stupid decisions and he…he didn't realise the darkness around him until it hit him full square _in the face_. He hurdled himself towards his own sorry _death_." He paused as he glanced upwards at nothing, and his playful voice came back when he addressed me. "And who is this Shaylee, Princess Jane, hmm?"

"She was a little girl who stood in the shadow of her father…but now does things for _herself_."

I said it almost like it was rehearsed.

"Too right, Jane," The Joker said, licking his lips.

"_No_! Jack it can't be you. It can't be!" Larry cried.

"Ah, shut him _up_, will you?" Joker snapped.

"Shut it!" I shouted.

"Jack…you can't be _The Joker_!" Larry exclaimed. "That doesn't make any _sense_! Tell me it's a lie! Please say it's a lie!"

"_Hello_? I told you to _shut up_!" I screamed.

"Do I _really _look like a liar?" Joker asked, scornfully. "You calling me a _liar_?!"

"What's _happened _to you?!" Larry idiotically cried out. "Both of you, out of my house!"

"Looks like someone doesn't know the meaning of 'shut up', your highness," Joker said, smirking cunningly at me, putting his hands on his hips. I laughed disdainfully into Larry's face. "Give 'im 'ere," Joker ordered, gruffly. Although disappointed, I removed the gun from Larry's face and let him collapse to knees, where Joker quickly grabbed him, holding him by the neck and placing his own knife hear his face. "Watch a professional, PJ," he said.

"Yes, boss," I giggled.

The adrenaline made me sit on the floor next to them both crossed legged, glancing up at the Joker in awe, purposely acting like a little kid watching a fireworks display, with my mouth and eyes open. An insane smile was plastered on my face. I kept my gun close to me as I watched the Joker humiliate the betrayer Larry. It was highly entertaining.

"She's in training, ya see," The Joker said.

"Jack please don't hurt me…what _do you want _from me?!" Larry blubbered.

"Hmm…seems like _someone _can't get my name right."

The Joker's voice was now becoming that intriguingly dangerous, raspy tone again. I knew this was because he was becoming angry. Inside his head there were probably a bombard of noises going on. I chuckled as Joker forced Larry's head to look at him.

"Despicable," I scoffed.

"Too right," The Joker said, nodding.

"_Please_…" Larry whimpered.

"_SHUT UP_!" Joker screamed demonically. It echoed throughout the tavern. The rain beating outside was the only sound heard for a tense couple of moments. "So…apparently, you have a lot of money. Hmm? _All _stolen, no doubt, and there's nothing wrong with that. But you know, because you're _such a good friend_…you'd let us borrow some, wouldn't you? Even a guy like me needs _money _to at least _survive _and that. Whaddaya say, hmm?"

"Uhh…" Larry mumbled as he tried and failed to struggle from the Joker's firm grasp.

"You know…as well…we were gonna give you the opportunity to…show Gotham's true colours. With us. You see…I've been…_abandoned _since Harvey Dent's unfortunate passing the other day…and…I have no one but little Princess Jane left. There's always room for a _little expansion_. Ya know?" Joker raised his eyebrows at Larry. "So how about it, huh?"

Larry sighed shakily. I leaned in eagerly to hear his answer.

"I'd rather _die_," he spat in Joker's face.

"Say that again."

"I'd rather _die _than join you."

"You…you rather _die_?!"

"Yes!"

Joker suddenly couldn't control his unstoppable sniggering.

"Aw ain't that a _shame_, Princess Jane?!" he bellowed.

A smirk appeared on his lips, making his scars form a gruesome smile on his handsome face.

"Why so serious?" I piped up, rocking back and forth on my crossed legs.

Joker raised his eyebrows at me, licking his lips again. He looked at me with an abnormal affectionate smile which may have looked creepy to any normal person, but to me, it was the smile of appreciation.

"Indeed," he said. He glared at Larry. "_Anyway_…about this money…"

"Jack…Jack…please my friend…" Larry sounded like he was about to burst into tears as he begged for his life. "Please…don't hurt me…"

"Don't _hurt you_?" The Joker exploded into horrible laughter. "You…you just said you'd _rather die _than work with me!" As he calmed himself down, he addressed me, now using that playful voice of his. "So…how does my princess fancy…making Larry's wish come true?"

"Wh-What?" Larry gasped.

"Shhh…." Joker's voice suddenly went eerily calm, as he put his finger to Larry's lips. "Let's give the person you affected the _most _to finish you off, shall we?"

I leaped onto my feet. "So whatcha want me to _do_, Joker?" I asked, excitedly.

He grinned at me, exposing his rotten teeth.

"I don't know whatcha do, PJ, but you intrigue me. You're fascinating." He turned back to Larry, still clutching onto his knife and keeping it dangerously close to his face. "D'ya wanna know how I got these scars?" he whispered, his soft voice returning. He nodded vigorously before glancing upwards at the voices in his head. I listened closely. "Not that long ago…I was in a dark…pit…of despair. One day, I'm feelin' like I can't _take it anymore_. I lost the love of my life and…more importantly…I lost my little girl. No. Thanks. To _you_. So…I go to my old pal Harley again…you remember Harley, don't you? _You _were always fascinated with her. Hmm. Because she's _always _so happy to see me, I went and saw her before I wanted to put an _end _to my life. Big…mistake. She'd had a fall out with her girlfriend Ivy and she was goin' off _crazy_ at me…I raised my knife to her to defend myself…and Harley doesn't like that. She grabs it off me, and she _says_…_'Why so serious, Mister J?' _She's _craaaazy_. She sticks the blade in my mouth and carves this smile on my face, _laughing _at my pain. I'd never _been _so attracted to a woman _in my life_. But now she's always smiling too…to cheer me up and to get me away from sadness…she then carves her _own _face. And now we're practically twins!"

The Joker burst into psychotic laughter. His cackling made me start as well, even though I knew most of that story was a pack of lies.

Joker then turned to me, as he violently threw Larry to the ground. He tried to escape, but Joker soon pinned him down again, slamming his head on the floor by his neck. He also spat on him as Larry groaned in pain.

"Not such a big man now, huh?" I mocked.

"Now, now, your highness," The Joker said to me, running his tongue across his lips. He sounded unusually affectionate with his voice, a voice that was very strange to come out of a psychopath. "Let's be _polite_ about this, hmm?" he said. "Now let's get this over and done with, shall we?"

"Yes, sir!" I cried.

Although the Joker smiled at me, his voice became horrifyingly strict. He didn't scare me, though. I was used to this already. I was even used to it when he was just dad to me. I didn't dare call him _that_ when we were out doing business.

"Load the gun," he instructed. I did exactly that and pointed it towards Larry, who was gasping for air on the floor. The sight of him looking so weak and helpless, when he was once a violent criminal himself made me crack up. "Ah-ah-ah…concentrate," Joker said. I bit my tongue to hold back the laughter. "Now." He leaned down to talk to the whimpering Larry, who he firmly held down by his head. "You, be quiet, I'm training someone here. I'm doing you a favour." He then looked back up at me. "Now, princess, show me you can dispose of evil little traitors to Gotham like this one. Evil…little…_traitors _to his _friends _and his dear sweet wife…because if you can't kill 'im, you'll just have to die, too. Like I said to you, people who aren't worth my time, or Gotham's time, there's no need to keep 'em."

"You won't need to kill _me_, boss," I said, confidently.

I grinned as I slowly started to put pressure on the trigger, feeling the most determined I had ever been. However, just before a bullet could fire, The Joker interrupted me with a loud cough. I responded immediately by relaxing my finger on the trigger and raising my eyebrows at him, just like he did.

"Make it fast," he decreed. "And painful. Tell me…what I said about the difference between guns and knives. Do you remember?"

"Guns are too quick," I answered, immediately, remembering from when I was fourteen years old. "With a knife, you can take in all the…emotions. That's why it's important to use a knife on people who are worth it, guns on people you just want you of the way."

The Joker looked at me, impressed. "Good…huh, you certainly learn quickly, doncha, PJ?"

"I learnt from the best."

"If that's the case, give this freak the send off he deserves. And be _quick_. Don't _hesitate _with it. Otherwise I'll have to kill 'im myself. But it's nice to give a sweet little girl a chance for once."

I couldn't hold back my maniacal laughter as I leaned down and made Joker lift Larry's head up to look at me. His expression would have looked beautiful in a knife's reflection.

I dug the gun into his head, as he continued to whimper and gasp for air, as the Joker was gripping him so tightly. Tears were now streaming down his face.

"_Please_…" he sobbed. "Please, Shaylee, don't do this. You're _better _than this…."

"That's _not _my name!" I shouted.

I inhaled a deep breath as I began to put pressure on the trigger.

"Kill 'im," Joker whispered.

I sighed before smirking at Larry, my head driving me insane. That's not a metaphor. I _was_. The most insanity I had ever felt. Something about The Joker being there made me feel it more than ever.

"Sorry," I sighed at Larry. "Daddy's orders."

And with that, I did as I was told. I killed. The gun erupted with a gorgeous bang, and I let that bullet tear out Larry's head. Joker loosened his grip as Larry's lifeless body thudded onto the ground, blood beautifully streaming into a puddle on the floor.

I was expecting Joker to congratulate me, but instead, he casually got to his feet and made his way over to the bar, as if a scene of his daughter murdering his once best friend had never happened.

"Now," he said, expressionless. "This money. Let's see if we can open this till. Give me your gun."

Not looking up at him, I tensely handed him my gun. As The Joker walked away, I stared down at my very first victim. I lifted up his head, but it fell back into place, confirming to me that he was in fact, dead. I followed the blood streaming out with my eyes, watching the puddle grow larger. I felt my head screaming, but at the same time it was cheering. I was victorious.

After all those years of failing to be able to kill someone, I had finally been broken, but that's what The Joker does best, I guess. Breaking people. Making them believe monstrous things. But this wasn't something I was made to do. I felt like I did all by myself. I felt it. The achievement. I felt it through every inch of me, to the core of my bones. The achievement of revenge. Killing the man who wanted to hurt my mother, who was so pathetic made her best friend try to hurt her, resulting in her hideous death.

I couldn't stop gazing at the corpse in front of me.

I jumped a mile when I felt Joker's hand touch my shoulder roughly.

"Time to go home!" he said, joyously. I stood up and faced him, my body quivering with the adrenaline rush. The Joker displayed the joker card he'd thrown away in front of my face. "In a way…you helped to create my, didn't ya?" he teased.

"I was unware I was doing that," I said, blankly.

"Bet you feel…" His voice lingered away as he bore his eyes into my soul, which had just darkened even more. "How _do _you feel?" he asked, darkly.

"My mind is…its going crazy," I answered. "I can hear them cheering."

"You know? That's _exactly _what I felt when I gazed upon my first victim." He nodded towards Larry. "Such a rush."

"Yeah. I see fire, I hear…screaming…and cheering. Is that normal?"

"Of course not, but what have I always told you? You're a special girl."

"Yeah…yeah I am."

"Better leave this here as a souvenir," The Joker said, referring to the joker card. "Touch it," he instructed.

"W-Why?"

"Just touch it," he said, sternly. I rubbed my fingers on the cards, harshly and Joker went and placed it on Larry's back. "Home, Princess Jane?" he enquired, heading towards the door. "The carriage awaits."

"Y-Yeah…" I breathed.

"What's the matter, my ladyship?"

"Nothing, I…I just feel…feel strange."

"Tell me more."

"I can't explain. I just have a rush."

"Aw, that's adorable." He giggled, turning around and patting the top of my head, just missing the tiara. "You know, we should get you a _proper _tiara. I'll see to it. I'll get my men back, don't you worry. They're just gonna _love _you." He laughed and stepped out of the doorway, back into the pouring rain. "Bring your mask with you, darling," he called. "Mustn't leave that behind."

He was out of my sight as he walked away from the door. I made my way over to the mask I had thrown away and gazed at it.

I looked over my shoulder to where Larry's lifeless body was rotting. It made my throat tickle, just seeing the man who betrayed my family lie there dead before me. I walked up closer to him. The blood was the same colour as my dyed hair, and it was now burying itself within the wooden floor, making it's mark.

My mind was right, revenge _was _sweet.

The next thing I knew was that my maniacal laughter was echoing throughout the tavern. It was gorgeous how it filled up the room. I couldn't control myself. The monster had been unleashed.

Princess Jane had been born, and I wasn't sure if I could stop her from taking over.

* * *

_**For those of you who don't know, Princess Jane's design is actually based on the actual Joker's Daughter (or Duela Dent) character from the DC comics in terms of her appearance (hence the long gloves and short red hair), of course with my own spin on it ;) Just a little fun fact.**_


	17. Jane Is No Slave

_**This chapter was a challenge to say the least.**_

_**PLEASE NOTE: Towards the end of this chapter it contains very mature content and a scene that may be upsetting and/or disturbing to some readers. But just to warn you, it's very dark, cruel, upsetting and violent. People are either going to love or hate what I included in this part, but at the end of this chapter I shall explain why. There is a purpose to it and a reason why I decided to include it.**_

_**NOTE:**__** Also includes threat, strong language, sexual content and murder.**_

_**Thank you people, don't forget to read the end, it's important!**_

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Jane Is No Slave**

Joker and Harley had sex when we got home.

Don't ask me how I know, I heard them. You see, after we came back to Ivy's place, Joker made me sleep in the basement, with no sheets, nor a pillow. I was shivering as there was no heating in there, as well as my head still reeling wildly so I could barely sleep. Joker had pushed Ivy into a door to convince her to let him and Harley have the bedroom, so Ivy had to sleep in the kitchen, because she sure wouldn't argue with him.

Harley had indeed set fire to my jacket in the garden, but just before I went and finally got some sleep, she gave me back my cell phone which was still in one of the inside pockets, that she kindly didn't dispose of.

I sat up against a chair in the basement, and flipped it open, relieved to see it still had a large amount of battery left. I had twelve missed calls off Chase, and nearly double that off Bradley.

I wasn't really sure what Chase would have wanted, but I rang Bradley first anyway, completely forgetting what time in the morning it was.

It rang once, but it wasn't picked up. I tried again and an exhausted Bradley answered the call.

"Hello?" Bradley grumbled on the phone.

"Bradley?" I said.

"Shaylee, for fuck's sake, it's five in the morning," he groaned.

"So? You're the one who's been trying to ring me. What do you want?"

"Where the _fuck_ are you?" he demanded. "I came in from work at eleven thirty because of my double shift and you weren't here. I go upstairs to your flat to find you and see loads of makeup out in your bathroom and Ace is asleep in there, but yet his food is still left out in your room, which was a fucking mess. You obviously haven't fed the dog, have you?" He sighed deeply. "Where are you?"

"In a basement," I answered.

"W-What? What do you mean?"

"What I said. I'm in a basement."

"Well being in a basement is no good is it?! I'll have you know Shaylee I pay your rent for you to live in that flat ever since my parents wanted nothing more to do with you!"

"Bradley…please don't be mad…"

"Don't tell me _not _to be mad! You just decided to leave and not tell me where you are!"

"Bradley, you're not the boss of me, you're _not _my father."

"I know but I pay your rent because I actually have a fucking job!"

"Good for you."

"Look, are you coming back or not, because I can't just leave the dog without walking him and that isn't really my job."

"Oh, I'll…I'll be back soon…but Bradley, I haven't slept…I must sleep."

"What have you been _doing_?"

"Nothing much. Just wanted fresh air, to clear my head, you know?"

"And you ended up in a basement?"

"Yes."

"_Where_? What...? Shaylee, what…what have been doing?" He started to sound concerned about me for once in his life. Usually he wouldn't think much of what I got up to because I knew for a fact he didn't really like me at all. "Be honest with me," he said.

"You really want me to be honest?" I asked.

"Well…yeah," Bradley mumbled.

"You won't believe me."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it sounds…it sounds…_crazy_."

"Just _tell_ me!"

My tiredness had made my voice go slurred like I was high or drunk, and made me sound like I didn't care more than usual, but that didn't make the adrenaline I'd just experienced disintegrate. It didn't want to leave me, it kept taking over. I guess The Joker really _did _do something to me that would make the adrenaline rush stay locked inside me.

I sighed in satisfaction before I spoke to Bradley again.

"I…oh Bradley…you won't believe it," I squeaked in excitement. "I just went out into the City and _killed_ somebody."

At first I thought he cut me off because I heard nothing come from the other end of the phone. Absolutely nothing but silence, but the silence shouted a lot. I couldn't help but grin at the pleasure I felt from killing the man I hated.

Finally, Bradley stammered, "Wha…What?" I giggled at his childish stutter. "_What_?"

"I…I killed a man," I said.

"You…you _never_!" he exclaimed.

"Would I really lie to you, Bradley?" I interrogated.

"Shaylee are…are you _crazy_?"

"No…not really…maybe a little. There's a reason, though, Bradley…"

"Shaylee…you…you _killed _someone?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"But why?"

"Oh don't worry. He wasn't innocent. I didn't take an _innocent _life. He deserved to be killed."

"How does someone _deserve _to be killed? You _can't _be serious!"

"I am."

I heard Bradley sigh in disgust as I continued giggling.

"Something's wrong with you…_really_," he spluttered. "You're disgusting."

"That _man _was disgusting."

"No, shut up a minute...what exactly did he do that made him deserve to die?"

"He was…scum."

"And _you're _not?"

"No…no I'm not."

"You're not scum? The girl who's been to prison three times before she's eighteen years old?"

"So what? What he did is far worse than what I've _ever _done, Bradley. The only sensible way to live in this world is to fight for what's right. What's _right_…was that he was one body I could dispose of because the world didn't need him walking on it. Tonight, I…" I couldn't control my laughter anymore, and started chuckling unstoppably. "Tonight I just _had _to kill 'im, Bradley! I feel good. I feel better now knowing that he's rotting _awaaay_! But I..." My voice trembled involuntarily. "But I...I don't know if I did it...brutally enough."

Bradley said nothing as I continued to giggle, disturbingly proud of myself for what I had done. I knew in my good human mind that I should have felt awful and regretted it terribly, but I didn't. I don't know…what it is, but that doesn't mean I'm a psycho. I still cared for people, but only people who I _should _care about, it was just that list of people was running short now. The people who had ruined dad's life deserved to die as they are no use to the world. Larry was one of those people.

After a few moments with my little sadistic giggling, I waited for Bradley to speak.

"Shaylee…I can't believe you." His voice cracked, sounding like he was about to break down into tears. "You just sit there and laugh at the fact you've killed a man. How…how could you?"

"Because it's what's right."

"What _makes_ you believe that, exactly?"

"Revenge is fair, Bradley. That's all I was doing."

He groaned loudly, startling me a little, but I still kept the grin on my face.

"Shaylee. You are not coming near me again," he said, strictly. "Don't even think about coming near me or my flat and _especially _not my family ever again."

"Bradley?"

"And I will make sure Chase never comes near you again."

My smile vanished instantly from my face.

"You…you _can't_ do that!" I hissed.

"Try me," Bradley said, sounding heartless.

"No…you…you can't keep Chase away from me. You can never do that do me! You _won't_!"

"He's family, I'm not letting him going back to _you_…_you_, who is nothing but lowlife scum _and _a murderer."

"I kill one guy and that makes me a murderer?"

"Yes. Yes it _does_, Shaylee. One person is all it takes."

"Don't _call _me that! I mean…" I sighed. "Look, Bradley, fair enough. I won't need to go back to that flat again anyway. Don't you worry, I'll leave you alone. I won't be coming back, I don't _need _to, but let's get one thing straight here…you don't have any right to stand between me and Chase."

"You're not even together anymore."

"I know but–"

"Can't believe it took him so long to end it, to be honest. Listen to yourself. _Listen _to what you're_ saying_. You said you're _happy _you killed a man and freely admit it."

"Well you shouldn't have asked, should you?"

"How should I know that you won't do the same to Chase or my family?"

"What? I would _never_ do that and you _know _I wouldn't! You _know _I'd never hurt Chase! Never."

"Says the girl who beat him up."

"Shut up! You don't know half of it! You don't know half the _shit _we went through."

"Just…stay away from me. You hear? I don't wanna see you."

"For fuck's sake, Bradley, at least let me have _Ace_ back!"

"No!"

"Someone's getting all defensive for nothing, huh?"

"You're absolutely crazy, and to think for one minute I thought I was in love with you."

"_What_? Bradley…_what_?"

"I thought maybe you'd changed your ways since you came out of jail for the third time in December, but hell, was I wrong! You're nothing but a piece of shit."

"_No_!"

"I warn you Shaylee, if you _ever _come near me again…"

"Oh don't worry I _won't_! Now fuck off!"

I flipped my phone back down so the call immediately ended. With a loud grunt I threw my cell phone in a random direction in my sudden anger. My war paint was now crumbling off slightly, so it didn't matter when my tears started to make it drip away. I put my face in my hands and battled myself not to cry, because crying lead to…

Voices.

They arrived to beat me down again.

They bashed out everything Bradley had just said about Chase. They were calling me pathetic, worthless for crying over the boy who broke me, the boy who made me all emotional. The boy who made me _weak _and cry for two weeks after we broke up.

It appeared he was _still _breaking me.

I immediately tried to cut it out, as I wasn't Shaylee Napier anymore. I was Jane Price, a girl who had been beaten down so badly she cared about _no one _by the time she'd gone crazy. Not even her father.

But no, it was _impossible _for me not to care about my father.

I thought it was impossible not to care about Chase, either.

But no, I couldn't be weak, I couldn't be weak, I couldn't be weak. I _couldn't_.

Block it _out_, block it out, block it _out_.

I didn't realise I'd started screaming Chase's name.

Ivy burst through the basement door and lifted my head to look at her. I couldn't believe this woman was a criminal and once worked with my dad, she was too _nice_ to me to be that.

"Jane!" she exclaimed, lifting my head up.

"Chase!" I whimpered. "Chase! They're calling him my _weakness_!"

"What are you talking about?" Ivy asked, calmly.

"The voices! The fucking _voices_!"

I glanced behind Ivy's shoulder and saw an unfamiliar looming shadow with a hood, holding a knife. I shrieked loudly and clung onto Ivy in front of me, involuntarily burying my head into her chest.

"Jane, what's up?" Ivy said, holding me. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"Keep it away from me!" I shouted.

"What?"

"_That_!" I lifted a shaking finger in front of me.

I felt Ivy look over her shoulder.

"There's nothing there," she stated.

I looked up, breathing heavily. It had turned into miniscule pixels.

"It's…it's gone all funny," I said, sounding childish with my voice.

"Jane, you're obviously experiencing hallucinations," Ivy said, making an obvious fact. "Just calm down. What's been going on?"

I instantly changed back to being a girl experiencing mental trauma, and started shrieking into Ivy's face.

"Bradley told me…he told me I can never see Chase again!"

"W-What? Who? Jane, slow down…"

"My ex!"

"Is that Bradley?"

"No! No, no! _Chase_. Bradley is his arrogant bastard cousin who…" My eyes started spouting unwanted tears again, making my voice do that silly trembling thing. "He said I can't ever _see _him again! And _they're _saying I'm weak…_he's _my weakness! I'm not! I'm not weak, Ivy…" My eyes widened. "I'm no _slave_," I whispered, creepily.

"Alright, alright, calm down you silly girl," Ivy laughed. She sat me up straight. "You're obviously just overtired."

"You know you're starting to sound like my mother. You're not my mother."

"I know, I know, I'm just trying to help…" She sighed. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Shaylee."

"It's _Jane_, and I'll be _fine_," I insisted. "Now…" I glanced back at the figure who was slowly beginning to deteriorate. He made my eyes flicker. The voices were still screaming at me, but now I just let them speak. After all, they would go eventually. Goodness knows how many times I'd been through that. "Ivy…I must sleep," I breathed. "I'll be okay. I'm going to ignore them anyway."

"Wow, you…you sure recover fast, kid," Ivy chuckled.

"I don't. It's still racking. There's still a figure. They're still saying lies. I'm not recovered, but I'm fine."

I don't know why, but a grin appeared on my lips. Ivy stared at me, not in fear, but in concern. Her expression was hilarious.

So much so that I burst into laughter.

My head was laughing so hard, the infectiousness made me laugh hard along with it.

Ivy just nodded and left the room, her strawberry blonde hair bouncing behind her.

I laughed myself to sleep that morning. I'm not sure what it was. I was starting to believe I was bipolar after all, so many mood swings changing unexpectedly. I wasn't losing my mind, but I knew for a fact I was changing. I wasn't completely sure why or how.

My heart almost fell out of my chest the next morning when a loud gunshot woke me up in the afternoon. I screamed and staggered backwards up against the desk. The Joker was in the doorway, clutching onto a large tommy gun. He had obviously re-done his war paint and was wearing the same clown suit he'd always been wearing. He sniggered immaturely at the sight of me looking so alarmed.

"_Morning_!" he cried, joyously.

"Fucking hell, what was that for?" I groaned, stretching my arms to awaken myself.

"Hmm, not very polite language for a royal tongue, huh, Princess Jane?" The Joker said. "Time to get a move on. We uh…well _you're_ in for quite a day. Oh yes, oh yes you are."

"And what kind of day is that?" I asked, curiously, opening my eyes wider.

"You'll find out. Get up and in five move yourself in the big room with Harley and Ivy," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," I sighed.

He sauntered away and as quickly as I could, I stumbled to my feet. I grabbed my high heels and headed into the hallway, starting to explore. I noticed the cramped little bathroom was right ahead of me, so I locked myself in there. The mirror was barely the size of my head, but I still managed to see my red hair was still pretty much in place. I rose on my tiptoes to straighten out my purple tie, this time tucking it inside my crown-patterned top. My paint had pretty much absorbed itself into my face, making it feel like it was my own skin. I took the plastic tiara off my head and re-crowned myself, as of course all that screaming and squirming I had done made it go all wonky. Although it did need re-doing, I wouldn't break The Joker's orders, so I just slipped on my high heels, and straightened out my tight skirt and tights, and made my way into the kitchen area, which was nothing more than a stove, oven, refrigerator and a table, which was surrounded by a cheap green table. Of course, Ivy being Ivy, plants and flowers were decorated at every corner.

Ivy was sat on one of the chairs with her legs spread open, the chair facing her and her arms leaning on the head as she kept her gaze fixated forwards. Harley was already in there too, wearing a completely new red and black outfit consisting of pretty much the same things she wore previously, but this time looking even sluttier than previously. She was sat crossed legged on the table itself, staring ahead of her with her pale blue eyes, painted around with black, just like The Joker. She was staring ahead with great interest. Her blonde pigtails were hanging loose over her shoulders, but this time she'd decided to tie them up in eccentric red ribbons. Both she and Ivy were staring in the same direction as well, when I walked in.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Shhh!" Harley hissed. "This is important!"

"What is?"

I peered further round to see that Harley was sitting directly in front of a small television screen on the table, which she was watching in possessive thought. I stood with my arms folded to see that Gotham News was being broadcasted yet again. The news anchor was interviewing another man who looked quite important, but I wasn't sure who he was.

"So you strongly suspect we'll have to take further action?" the anchor asked.

"Absolutely," the man replied. "We can no longer stand for this terrorist to bring this City to its knees. The shocking death of Harvey Dent has made it clear that we may need more than we have to take The Joker down."

"And what do Gotham's police force intend to do?" the anchor questioned.

"Well, we may need to go to further lengths, asking more than the police with the Batman and the government to get rid of The Joker. We can no longer stand for what this maniac and his men are trying to do to our City. We promise Gotham all that we can if we discover The Joker out terrorising further, with Commissioner Gordon in charge."

"Harley!"

We all jumped at the sight of the clown making his way into the kitchen, still holding onto a gun in his hand. I stood back and Ivy leaped off her seat, but looked almost disgusted with The Joker as she backed up against the refrigerator. Harley squealed as she beamed up at him for god only knows what.

"Oh Mister J they're on your tracks!" she cried.

"Now, now, now, calm yourself, pretty face," The Joker said, sounding calm. "Get off the table, Harley."

Harley jumped down from the table and stood next to me. The Joker traced his dark eyes to the television screen, where he watched the conversation continue. We all held our breath.

"If you see any sights of The Joker in any part of Gotham be sure to inform Gotham police immediately," the anchor informed into the camera. "And be sure to look out for any of the people that may be working for him, they too, may need our help."

"What's this?" The Joker demanded.

"They found you missin' from Arkham, Mister J," Harley explained, quietly. "And now they just told the _whole _of Gotham that you escaped."

"Escaped with _your_ help?" he asked.

"Oh yes, I was on the news too," she giggled. "Horrible picture of me, though."

"Let me guess." The Joker now started pacing up and down the room, making Harley and I step backwards. "They've immediately sent people to hunt me down, hmm?"

"Yeah," Harley said, nodding.

"And I presume the Batman will be on my tracks."

"Unfortunately, still refusin' to take off his mask."

"Did they mention anything of Princess Jane?"

"Uhh…no…actually. They just talked about _me_ being a suspect of helping you out. Typical that, ain't it?"

"Good…good," The Joker sniggered. "So are they aware that I have recovered?"

"They said that they presumed you will have done."

"And all the men who worked with me…I guess…"

"They're all locked up, puddin'."

"Locked up? Where?"

"They didn't say."

The Joker suddenly pushed his face into Harley's in a fit of rage, and I stayed out of the way, but somehow Harley still managed to smile at his repainted face.

"They didn't _say_?" he asked, dangerously calm.

"N-No…but...they'll just be in Arkham, won't they?" Harley squeaked.

The Joker grunted loudly and like me, his hands clutched onto his head as he paced up and down again taking deep breaths, all of a sudden toppling a chair over in heat of anger. It was like dad had escaped from his system for a slight moment before he started walking around like The Joker again after several heavy breaths of relieving his frustration.

"Hey, watch it!" Ivy shouted, referring to the chair he'd kicked over.

Joker snapped his gun and aimed it at her, and she backed up against the refrigerator again.

"You shut up," he snapped. He then darted the gun towards Harley, who squealed at the sight of the gun being lobbed in her direction. "You, did they mention anything about knowing my whereabouts?" he enquired, aggressively.

"No, puddin'," Harley answered. "They're askin' for the people's help in finding you, like _other _important people rather than just the stupid cops."

The Joker's eyes followed the walls of the room and with an irritated groan, as he moved the gun away from Harley's direction. He remained in obvious thought for a few moments, making my own head go into deep wonder, along with The Joker's.

"Seems like, uh…I only have one option," he finally sighed, in his clown voice.

"Don't tell me you're gonna give up? You _can't _give up!" Harley exclaimed.

Joker burst into cunning laughter.

"You think I'm giving _up_?!" he cried. "I…I'm not _giving _up! I love this job too much." He smirked at me, making me respond with the same identical smirk. "I'm going to go on a…uh…a little _trip_," he said. "I'm gonna go get 'em out." Harley squealed in delight, grinning at me. "Quiet!" Joker snarled, darting the gun at her again. He turned and walked towards her, and I once again backed off his demonic presence. Harley gazed into his eyes, looking at him like he was a God. "You're aware of the plan, Harley?" he questioned, endearingly. "Aware of my goal? What I'm gonna do to make this town fall to its knees at last?" He suddenly yanked her by her collar, and she howled playfully.

"Of course!" she shrieked, starting to run her fingers through his green hair that had been fried in grease.

Joker frantically shook his head to make her hand go away and Harley flopped it beside her in disappointment. He didn't take his glare off of her.

"And?" he questioned, bellicosely.

"And uh…uh…" Harley stammered. The sight of this made me snicker under my breath, and I felt proud when I wasn't told to shut up. "Uh…we're going to…"

"You don't know, do you, Harley?" Joker said. Harley weakly shook her head. "Oh Harley…Harley, Harley, Harley…you are a funny one. You always _were _so obedient, weren't ya? Yet sometimes you _fail _to grasp the idea."

"I'm sorry, Mister J, I'm sorry!" Harley spluttered.

"Be quiet!" he snapped.

"No, no, I mean it…I…I wasn't even _told_ the plan! I thought you don't usually plan that's why I…I didn't know…it must be somethin' good though! I dunno! I'm sorry, puddin'!"

"Shh, shh, shh…shut your big mouth," he whispered.

"But–"

Then, out of the blue, Joker grabbed her by the back of the neck and smashed her face onto his scars in a kiss, shocking me beyond belief, even if it did only last two seconds. I didn't know if it was even possible for someone like The Joker to kiss a woman passionately for merely a second, and especially if it was an obsessive freak woman like Harley Quinn. Straight after he kissed her, he violently threw Harley onto the floor and kicked her in her side, but Harley remained grinning up at the ceiling and she giggling madly. Joker raised his eyebrows in question of my alarmed expression.

"Is something _wrong_, Princess Jane?" he asked.

"No," I immediately answered.

"Good." Joker started walking up and down the room again. "Now. Our little expedition today involves…getting a few scumbags out of prison to fill our little _team_. Because let's be honest, girls, I can't just have _you two _can I? The mob's gonna get a little bit suspicious of I have two _women_ helping me, they…actually the _whole _of Gotham might get some, uh…they may get some _funny _ideas. So…" He finally towered above me, and raised his free hand up to my face. I jumped in shock, making Joker grab my cheeks and grin craftily. "So I'm gonna go get some _men _outta prison, okay?" I nodded vigorously. "Hmm. Now you girls…"

"Whatcha want _us _to do, Joker?" Harley asked, getting up to get feet. "Because I _sure _wanna beat up those guys at Arkham again! You should'a seen their faces!"

Joker scooted his eyes towards Harley, but still kept holding my face.

"Oh no…no, no, no," he mumbled. He pushed my face away and stood before us both. "Ivy, two guns for the women," he ordered, not looking at her. Ivy sighed and slumped her way out of the room. "No, no…you're not coming with _me_."

"What? But puddin', how…" Harley began

"Shh, shh, shh," Joker whispered, waggling his finger at her. "Look, do you _really _think I'm so unintelligent that I wouldn't think something like this through _properly_, huh? The police are on my tracks, the _mob _are on my tracks and most importantly the Commissioner and the Batman will be on my tracks. You know? I don't want 'em _spoiling _my fun, do I? Which is why…I'm gonna pay a little visit to Arkham and release a few fools to work with me again if I'm gonna come back, but...I won't go with my war paint on…"

"But you can't do that!" I cried out, without thinking.

Joker raised his eyebrows at me. "Excuse me…Princess Jane?"

"I mean…you mean…you're _not _going to be Joker when you go up there?"

"Let's think this through, ladies. They'll spot me straight away. They'll try and kill me, chuck me away in there…I'm not silly, Jane. Just for a while…while I get 'em out, I'll have my _own bare skin _so they won't recognise their old pal Mister J…it'll be nice. I've uh…I've _missed _the fresh air of Gotham on my skin, you know. We'll head to the bank. Gaining hostages in there…sounds good to me. That'll drive the police _insane_ knowing that's happened…and then…"

"What, what, what?" Harley squealed.

"Wait an' see, hmm?" Joker teased. "Let's just _do things _for now."

"Aw!" Harley moaned.

Joker loaded the gun, threateningly to shut Harley up, just as Ivy walked in with two handguns, handing Harley and myself one each.

"Thank you, Isley," Joker said, sounding like dad.

"It's Ivy," she corrected.

"Mmm-hmm," he muttered.

"So what are _we_ gonna do, then?" I asked, as I examined the new gun.

"I can't have you come with me to get the guys out," Joker replied. "If you two trot along with me to Arkham, the cops are gonna know _straight away _that something fishy will be happening, won't they? Harley, you take a little cell phone to stay in contact with me, huh? I'll let you know when the boys and I are on our way to the bank once we've made a move." He giggled.

"The _bank_?" I gasped.

"Don't question me," The Joker said. "Just go with it. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harley giggled. I nodded my head convincingly. "So what are we supposed to do while you're getting the stinky criminal men outta Arkham?"

The Joker chuckled. "Well, you girls like your shopping, don't you?" he said. "Her royal highness here needs a little bit of a better crown than that stupid old thing, doncha, PJ?"

"Where are we gonna get one of _those_?" Harley complained. "I dunno where they sell pretty metal _tiaras_, do I?"

"Won't they have one in a wedding store or something?" I suggested.

Harley stared at me, but I kept on looking at Joker, who I saw was smiling proudly, just like dad. It was strange, then and again Jack Napier himself would come out of The Joker like he had real feelings unlike the psychopath he had become.

"Good thinkin', Princess Jane," he said. He came over and pinched my cheek. "Take yourself and Harley and have a girly spree, won't you? Except uh…with a little defense, that's all that'll be different. Gotta leave the _dangerous_ stuff to me, okay?"

I giggled happily.

"Come on then, Harley," I sighed.

"But, Mister J, are you sure you wanna break them out without ya precious war paint?" Harley asked, stupidly.

Joker dug the gun into her head.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" he asked, almost in a mocking tone of voice. He talked to her like she was a misbehaving five year old.

"N-No!" Harley chimed.

"Good girl," he spat. "You know it's funny, Harley, you've been doin' this, roaming around this City being a madwoman for a long time, yet, little innocent Princess Jane here seems more _professional _than _you_. Like _she _was taught all the ropes by that insolent Larry Torres, too. Least she has her _head _screwed on." He looked back at an unamused Poison Ivy. "You, you're going to help me," he commanded. "I'm sure you'll have a little scarf I can borrow to cover these scars, don't you?"

Ivy sighed impatiently.

"I'm sure I'll have something," she groaned.

"Hurry up, before I shoot, _Is-ley_." Ivy hurriedly scurried out of the room. Joker turned around to follow her out. "Now. You two have fun, take ya phone, Harls. I'll ring you to join me at the bank for a little bit of beating up to do. Gotham General Bank, the biggest one in the posh side of town. We clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harley and I said in unison.

The Joker walked out of the room and we heard him lock himself in the bathroom. I glanced at Harley, who was absorbed with the gun in her hand. I grinned.

"Are you alright, Harley?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just curious what Mister J is planning to do with that Batman."

"If he _has _a plan…it's just to fuck up everything for the Commissioner and Batman…" I said, breathily. "Probably a lot of people would think they are Gotham's heroes now…but, uh…The Joker's gonna prove otherwise. He can…he can prove we can all go a _little _mad." The smirk on my face became wider. "Am I a little mad Harley? Am I?"

"Maybe a little but hey, I am too, so we're cool!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah…" I sighed. "Damn my brain. My life was never gonna be normal was it?" I laughed loudly at how much of a joke my life was. "So can we go then?"

"Yeah, let's go!" Harley shouted.

"Do you know where we're going?" I asked.

"There's a lot of fancy shops in the City," Harley said. "I'm sure we'll find a wedding store somewhere."

"And we won't get caught?"

"Oh no!" she chirruped. "If they wanna fool _me_, then you can set your boyfriend on 'em."

"I don't have a boyfriend?"

"Don't you?"

"I _used_ to. Not anymore. I told you that last night, remember?"

"Aw, yeah…guess I'll have to getcha another prince charming. God help 'im if he comes across Mister J himself. It won't be pretty." I didn't answer that comment. I followed Harley out of the doorway where she called, "_Ivy_!" through the hallway.

"What?" she shouted back.

"Can we borrow ya van?" Harley asked.

"God, am I everybody's slave around here?!" Ivy groaned. "Do I have to serve all of you?" She sighed. "Go ahead, use it, but be careful, hon!"

"Thanks, babe!" Harley laughed. "C'mon PJ."

After Harley and myself had grabbed our cell phones, we headed outside to where the van was parked and Harley climbed into the driver's seat. I sat next to her and immediately strapped myself in, as I knew we were in for a hell of a ride.

Harley squealed and hollered the entire journey as I was responsible for looking out for a shop that sold tiaras. I couldn't believe this was what The Joker ordered us to do, but then again, he wanted us out of the way while he freed his goons from Arkham or prison, because he didn't want the cops to know of our involvement with him. Harley leant me her black lipstick and I blackened my lips as we sped across the streets, which to me were starting to look chaotic again, due to the fact that they believed The Joker had escaped from Arkham.

"Harley, keep it down I'm trying to concentrate!" I yelled at her.

"But I haven't driven for _ages_!" Harley shrieked. "Besides, I think I know where I'm goin'!"

"We've been driving for ten minutes how do you know where you're going?!"

"Hey, sweetie, Ivy's place is like, the _other side _of Gotham City, all the fancy shops are in the big shoppin' area aren't they? It might even be near the bank that The Joker wants to have fun in!"

"Well if we crash then you can only blame yourself!"

"You worry too much, Princess Jane! We'll be just fine. Hey, here we are in the big-ass shopping area now!"

Harley had pulled into the largest area in the City and she was right. It was where all the snobby rich people did their shopping, in exactly the same area near Chestnut Avenue, where Bradley's posh flat was. Harley parked surprisingly in a car park and we made our way into town, immediately greeted with disgusted digs. Some little girls clung onto their mothers as we walked past, and of course horny young boys wolf-whistled at Harley, to which she just blew them a harmless kiss. We walked down all the avenues, until I grabbed Harley's arm when I saw a store entitled 'Walk Down The Aisle.'

"Harley," I hissed.

"What?" she whispered. I nodded knowingly towards the store. "Ah, yes, well spotted Pricey." She giggled and we slowly made our way into the store. I was surprised to learn there wasn't anyone in there. Obviously people didn't think now was the right time to be getting married. There was a scruffy male cashier, who leaped backwards when we entered, and two female assistants who steered away from us, looking totally alarmed by our entrance. I followed Harley up to the counter, where she leaned in close up to the cashier's face, and fluttered her innocent blye eyes at him. I stood beside her with my arms folded, looking more like the boss instead of a bimbo like Harley. "Heya," she said, brightly. "We're here for uh…a tiara."

"Look, pal, you see this one on my head?" I cut in. "It's pretty stupid plastic kiddie stuff, so uh…can I have a better one? Do you sell 'em?"

"Uh..." The man cleared his throat and gulped hard. "I, uh, I'm sure we have some tiaras we can sell for you," he mumbled. "But…but what is the purpose for it? I don't imagine you're getting married anytime soon."

"Uh, yes she is!" Harley said. "Look at her, she's beautiful. She needs a proper tiara mister!"

He nervously glanced over at the two assistants, who were shaking their heads at him.

"What you two shaking your heads for?" I demanded.

"Look, can you help us or not?" Harley asked the cashier.

"I…I'm sorry, lady–"

"The name is Harley. Harley Quinn. I know no one knows me in this City but it's about time people did! Now hand 'em over."

"I'm calling the cops!" one of the females shouted.

I gasped and pulled out my gun, which I had hidden inside my skirt. I darted it at her and she stepped back.

"You do _that_, then you'll regret coming to work this morning!" I snarled.

"Someone help!" the cashier cried, starting to run towards the door.

"I don't _think _so!" Harley shrieked, pulling out her own gun.

She laughed heartily as then I heard a gunshot explode from her gun and the cashier collapsed onto his stomach. The woman I had at gunpoint screamed loudly, making me chuckle along with Harley. The other woman rushed forward to the corpse that was now creating a puddle of red blood on the floor. Harley crept up behind her before grabbing her face and clasping her hand over her face. She screamed into her hand, while Harley and I just laughed at the humiliation we were creating. I glanced up at the security camera and shot it with one bullet. The woman Harley had in her grasp was still shrieking into her palm, until it got to the point my ears nearly got damaged with the piercing sounds. Although, it was almost music to my ears, knowing Harley and I were in control.

"Shut up!" Harley ordered. "God, that is _so _annoying."

I looked back at the woman in my mercy and a devious smirk appeared on my black-painted lips.

"So, lady, tiara?" I asked, nodding my head. "Please?"

The other woman screamed again and shook her head vigorously at the other woman.

"What did I just say?!" Harley yelled. "Shut _up_!"

I watched as a beautiful display of death took place again. Harley shot the woman through the skull with one last piercing scream, as the other woman tried to rush over to her, but I managed to keep her back with my gun.

"Listen, lady," I spat. "Tiara or you're next, got it?"

She nodded quickly and I allowed her to lead me and Harley, who dropped the motionless body on the floor, through a door behind the counter. She speedily guided us through the corridor before we reached a long line of gold and silver tiaras for brides and bridesmaids.

"Here," she spluttered. "J-Just take on and _get out_."

I examined them all closely, some of them being the prettiest headgear I'd ever seen.

"What do you think, Harley?" I asked her.

"Well, silver would be better as gold would sink in with your hair colour."

"But gold would match the one on my top."

"Just pick one, we need to hurry!"

I traced my eyes around the many tiaras, as suddenly a large golden one, patterned with emeralds sparkled my eyes.

"Gotcha," I giggled, as I took it down from the shelf. "Could we take this one please?"

"Y-Yeah, just…just get out of this store!" she shouted.

"Oooh, PJ, she's gonna call the cops!" Harley laughed. The woman didn't say anything. "Are you?" Still nothing. "Oh well, thanks for ya help, darlin'."

I jumped a mile when Harley let off two bullets, making the woman's life end at my feet.

"Jesus Harley, you're just as bad as The Joker!" I laughed. "You just kill anyone!"

"He always says to me shoot anyone with a gun if you just want 'em out of your way and they're not worth ya time," Harley said.

"Yeah, same with me."

"He sure knows how to treat a woman right!"

"I wouldn't say that, Harley."

"You weren't there is _mornin_' when he showed me…"

"Oh, okay, let's just get outta here. He'll be ringing you before we know it."

We dashed out into the main shop again, leaping over the bodies and out of the store. Harley shot the man who confronted her as soon as we stepped foot out of the shop. No one bothered to come near us after that. That great feeling of achievement was coming back again, and I fucking loved it.

When we got back to the van, Harley couldn't keep still as she eagerly waited for the phone call informing us to come to the bank. I crowned myself again, using the van mirrors to put my new tiara on my head. It was the perfect fit, and my crimson hair didn't even hide it, in fact it made it stand out even more. It matched my new clown makeup and the large golden crown pattern on my top. The emeralds in the tiara matched The Joker's style, maybe even now the whole world would know I was working for him. Not _with _him, _for _him. If The Joker wanted everyone to know that is.

A firecracker blew under my seat when Harley squealed with delight a few minutes later.

"Yay, yay, yay!" she exclaimed.

"What?" I sighed.

"My cell's ringin'!" I hadn't even heard it, but she pressed a button in it, and another, so it was now on loudspeaker. "Hey, puddin'!" she cooed down the phone.

"Harley, Princess Jane," he greeted, politely. "I require you're…_services _at Gotham General Bank right now, if you will."

"Message received and understood, Mister J!" she squealed. "How'd it go? You got some thugs outta Arkham?"

"Indeed," he chuckled. "Some of 'em, been in my clutches before, others…they're new, but they seem excited." We then heard him laugh hard, cracking Harley and I up again. "Some of 'em didn't even recognise me!" The Joker continued, sounding out of breath. "But they're happy. Aren't you?" We heard the phone being jiggled around, before hearing just The Joker breathing heavily. "Aren't you?" he asked, sharply.

"Y-Yes, boss," a cowardly male voice whimpered.

"Yeah, you _should _be, James!" Joker growled. "Now, uh, ladies, you know what to do."

"Are we gonna blow the place up, puddin'?" Harley asked.

"Oh no, no, no…this is just a little robbery," The Joker replied. "A little hostage spree."

"A robbery?" I repeated. "What for? What do we need the money for?"

"Ah, ah, ah…Jane…baby, listen to me," he said, his voice soothingly perilous. "You trust me, doncha?"

"Of course I do."

"If a little money is stolen what's the first thing the cops are gonna do?"

"Investigate the robbery."

"Well done. And where do we want the cops to be?"

"Away from Arkham."

"Good girl. Now, hurry up, both of you."

"Yes, sir," we both laughed.

The call ended and Harley revved up the engine straight away. This time, I joined in with her crazy laughter and whooping as she rapidly dashed the car through the streets, making our way to Gotham General Bank, the largest bank in the City, where many rich people worked. I hate rich people.

Harley parked right outside the bank, where there was already a crowd of people witnessing the action through the door's window.

"Oh great, how are we supposed to get in?" I grumbled.

"Relax honey, there's a back way," Harley said, undoing her seatbelt.

"But everyone's gonna see!" I cried.

"No they won't," Harley giggled. "And if they question _us_, all we have to do is think about what our _guns _are for."

"But surely they'll chase after us."

"Jane. Who are we working for here?"

"The Joker."

"There you go, an' _he'll _look after us!"

"Yeah, but at the moment he has no makeup on so people won't know!"

"Ahh, relax, it'll _all _be fine! Now come _on_!"

I stammered again but I had no choice but to follow her when she dashed out of the van, screaming with laughter. We rushed towards the crowd, and they staggered backwards when we made our way past them, much to my astonishment. Some of them even latched onto each other with fear, and stared at me like I was a freak. No surprises there. They probably cowered away to let us in because Harley was bearing her gun at the lot of them, so they knew they had to step back.

I casually followed Harley into the bank, where I gasped at the sight I saw. The huge exterior of the bank was now infested with hostages and a few scumbag men, loaded with guns, pointing them at the helpless hostages that were tied up in a line, some of them were gagged. I grinned at the sight of this, knowing full well The Joker had done what he had said: gathered his criminal gang, ventured to the bank and was planning to rob a load of money to drive the cops to him. I wasn't quite sure why, but I didn't question it. I knew he was smart in what he was doing.

As Harley and I entered, one of the thugs got up into my face without warning, but I didn't even flinch, raising my eyebrows haughtily at him.

"What the fuck are _you _doing?" he demanded.

"Oh fuck off, I'm working for The Joker," I snapped.

"The Joker never lets _women _work with him," he laughed. "You must be a little obsessive freak."

"Excuse me?!" Harley shrieked. "I think you'll find _I'm _a woman and I'm the best person he's ever had working with me!"

"You shut up, Quinn," he snorted. "You know The Joker's only using you as bait. He'll kill you at any moment."

I nearly fell at the shock of hearing a gun fire, after which the man's body collapsed onto Harley, making her squeal in disgust and throw his body onto the floor. I looked ahead to see a man, whose mouth was covered with a black scarf and his hair covered with a green woolly hat, shaking his head relentlessly.

"Idiot," I heard him mutter.

"Puddin'?" Harley questioned.

"Joker?" I said, shocked.

"Harley, out through that door," The Joker said, pointing his gun behind him to an emergency exit door. "Through there some men are loading up the money. Go make yourself useful."

"Uh-huh," Harley said, starting to skip joyfully towards to door.

I squinted my eyes to make sure I was actually witnessing this for real.

"Princess Jane, come here," he said, softly. I did so, cautiously. Once I was up close to him, I immediately gazed into his eyes. They were those dark orbs like mine, so I instantly knew it was The Joker after all. I can't tell you how different he looked without his clown face paint on. I saw dad's face for the first time in two years, and I couldn't help but smile. "Why are you smiling?" he asked.

"Uh…uh…" I spluttered.

"Look, I know I look funny but, uh…I need some help here, PJ," he chuckled.

"Oh, uh…of course," I said.

He pulled me in closer by yanking my wrist. He pushed my head sideways using his gun, forcing me to glare at the whimpering hostages.

"Now, your highness," he said, starting to circle around me. "It appears these hostages are trying their upmost to be little fighters and answer back to my thugs, but not many of them have the guts to kill 'em. My men are such fools they can't keep 'em in _order_."

"They look pretty secure to me," I cut in. "They look like they're not going anywhere to me."

"Ah, ah, ah…let me finish," The Joker said. "Now, these folks only came in to sort their _money _out this afternoon. And what do I think about money, Jane?"

"It's worthless," I answered.

"But it's not to these people, is it?"

"I guess not."

The Joker stopped in his tracks, until he was behind me. I felt his smile underneath his scarf as he leaned over my shoulder.

"Do you want to show my men how it _should _be done?" he asked, charmingly.

I gulped. "You…you mean you just want me to kill them?" I asked, nervously.

"Not necessarily, sweetheart," he chuckled. "Only the ones who try and tell you _lies_. I tell you truth, and you live up to the truth, don't you?"

"Of course. Now after this morning I _know _you're not shy to kill anymore, are you? Show 'em how it's done, doll."

"What about you?"

"I'll just…watch…but if I have to…which I probably will…I'll shoot a few people. I'm waiting for them lot to bring the money out so we can make _haste_."

"What do we need the money for?"

"Weaponry. Most of these guys don't have their own guns or knives, not like the ones Harley and myself have. Plus, it'll let Gotham know…I'm…not…done…just _yet_."

I lowered my voice rapidly.

"Do they know who you are?" I questioned.

"Of course they don't, not without my war paint," he said, quietly. "They can't see my scars under here either. Plus, I…I'm not dressed like the clown I truly am, because I _am_, you know. They all probably think this is _all _just an ordinary scumbag bank invasion."

"Well me dressed like this and having your paint on isn't going to help, is it?"

Joker quietly laughed as he leaned his head on my shoulder.

"Oh it will," he whispered. "It will, Princess Jane."

He removed himself and made his way over to the rest of the thugs, who were still busy trying to intimidate the hostages, some of which were squirming around and shrieking into their gags. There was one thug, with dark hair with sideburns, who was staring at me as I came forward with The Joker, who went over to one man who had managed to run off. I didn't even jump this time when The Joker shot the man, making his body flop onto the floor, making the floor become blood red.

"What you looking at?" I demanded to the guy.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, rudely. He called over his shoulder. "Hey, pal, who let this little girl in here that looks like a psycho Joker fan girl?"

I very nearly went to slap his ignorant face, but a touch on my shoulder restrained me. I looked up to see Joker had instantly appeared out of nowhere, and was scowling at the thug.

"That's no way to talk about a lady," he snarled.

"But, boss–" the thug began.

"Quiet!" The Joker now dug the gun into his face. "I've had a change of heart about girls joining me."

"What?!"

"Theo, do I _really _have to shoot you right here and now like a _hostage_?" The Joker's voice was menacing, but for some reason remained calm, just making it sound even more terrifying. I couldn't help smirk with pride, though. "Do I, huh?" he asked, more sharply when 'Theo' didn't answer.

"N-No," he mumbled.

The Joker yanked the gun away and looked at me, so I instantly looked back up at him in obedience.

"Why don't you tell 'im…your name?" Joker chuckled. "Because it's not up to me to tell him, hmm?"

"Yes…boss," I replied. Joker walked away with his hunched shoulders and from the corner of my eye saw him point his gun at a random hostage, who whined loudly in fear. I chuckled under my breath and looked back at Theo, who looked at me in utter disgust, making me smirk at him even wider. "My name is Jane," I said. "Jane Price. _Princess _Jane Price. Clown Princess of Crime, Blowing Things to My Kingdom Come." Theo snickered rudely. "And what's so funny?" I commanded.

"Just…just where the hell did he fund _you_?" he chuckled.

"He made me," I said, truthfully. "That's how. Now shut up."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen, what's it to you?" He raised an eyebrow and I saw his eyes venture down to my cleavage, making me sharply reveal my gun. "Don't you even think about it," I hissed.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," Theo said. "You must be crazier than _he _is."

"Shh!" I sneered. "People aren't supposed to know yet, you idiot, and I'm _not _crazy. I'm not. I'm just doing my job."

He continued to stare at my tits, as a grin appeared on his lips, leaving me no choice but to walk away with a load groan. I walked steadily along the line of hostages, now bearing my gun threateningly towards all of them, and they are stared at me. Some with genuine fear, some with ignorance, and some stared at me like I had completely lost my mind.

I hadn't lost my mind.

To my surprise, the other thugs didn't question me, only Theo. I guessed that Theo was obviously a sexist pig and a man who regularly underestimated women.

"Not long now," I heard The Joker say under his scarf. "Not long to you _all _see your money be driven away, money that can quite frankly can help to feed the poor unfortunate families who don't have money and have to rely on you sorry, pitiful _rich _folk to feed us. You all take away the money we need because you're in a _better _class and are clever enough to have jobs. Well guess what people? A guy like _me _is in a better class now. Of criminality."

"Scum like you deserve _no _money!" one woman yelled out, idiotically. "You don't deserve anything for simply stealing and running around this City making innocent people suffer"

A comment like that was all it took to re-fire my unpredictable anger.

"Shut _up_!" I shouted, darting the gun in her direction. "You don't _know _us!" I loaded the gun, warningly. "_You're _innocent? The people who badmouth the less fortunate? The people who have no choice but to grow up in the slums?!"

"Less fortunate, are you?" she answered back.

"You don't know what it's like to grow up in the slums!" I retorted. "And when you have evil in your mind controlling you! You don't know what it's like!"

"Now, now, Jane," The Joker stepped forward and gently pushed my gun downwards, away from the woman's direction. "Let's be fair about this."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Shush," he snapped. I shut my mouth when his piercing eyes gave me a strict glare. He looked towards one of the male thugs. "Give her to me, James," he instructed.

"Yes, boss," James said, immediately.

He grabbed the woman by her hair and aggressively pushed her into The Joker's grasp. James looked awfully familiar but I decided not to stare at him, it may have provoked him. The Joker (or Joker in disguise) was now holding the woman up close to him, and her hands were already tied behind her. Out of nowhere he now brought a sharp-bladed knife up to her face, while his gun had been passed to James. Theo randomly came and stood up behind me, but I tried to ignore his stinking breath on the back of my neck. I watched in awe of The Joker once again showing the citizens who's in charge.

"You know something, lady?" he growled at her, his voice starting to sound like dad's angry voice. "You're not very wise, are you, answering someone back who has you hostage? And now you've given me no choice but to show these people what happens when you upset a man like me."

"L-Let me go!" she cried. "Please don't hurt me!"

The thugs laughed at this charming display of cowardice, and I chuckled along with them. I just couldn't help it.

"Let her go!" a man cried.

"Shut up!" I yelled hoarsely, randomly firing a bullet in any direction, making the whole room tumble into silence.

The Joker chuckled psychotically before he continued.

"You know, Jane here has a point," Joker went on. "You're so…_weak_…_ignorant_…and _so _up yourself you don't even take a minute to think what it's like to…be corrupted. Be…forced into a life you don't want to live…until one day it becomes too _much_, and _this happens to you_!"

With his free hand he now removed the scarf from his mouth and threw it aside. I watched the victim's face closely, her face dripping with fear as she let out a shrill scream upon seeing the scars on my father's face, making the Glasgow smile even more visible. I imagined he was exposing his yellow teeth at her, too.

"It's The Joker!" one hostage yelled as they all gasp and screamed in shock.

"Let her go, you monster!" another begged.

"Someone _please _call the cops!" a third shouted.

"Shut up!" the thugs grunted, darting their guns at each of them.

I could feel the anger bubbling up in my stomach, all the way through to my head, where it triggered the evil voices, who began to possess me.

_Kill, kill, kill_…_don't let them call your dad a monster_. _No. No. No!_

I didn't even say a word, I just closed my eyes and masterfully fired the gun to my left, where a bullet hit one of the hostages, and I knew because it was followed by a body flopping, penetrating screams and hysterical crying from the other hostages. I opened my eyes again and glanced over where the corpse began to rot. One of the thugs stepped away from it, grasping a lady by the hair and forcing her to watch it, making me grin in an unwanted rush of pleasure.

I knew I shouldn't have done that, but I had to make them shut up, and it worked.

Everyone simultaneously looked at The Joker, still holding one woman at close knife point.

"Well spotted, madam," he said. "I am The Joker." The victim screamed and started to writhe, but Joker kept her firmly in his clutch. "Why do you look so scared?" he grunted, making her look at him. "I'm not even wearing my, uh…my _war paint_. I had to do that so the police didn't recognise me, you see. Shh, shh, shh, stop ya whimpering." He paused as he scowled at her. "Oh…oh I know what it is. It's the scars, isn't it? Hmm? D'they make you feel uncomfortable? …D'ya wanna know how I got 'em?" I watched him arrogantly raise his eyebrows at her, and she remained spluttering in fear. Joker inhaled deeply before he began, quickly glanced behind him towards me, and the back at the woman. I knew this would be another completely different story. "So I have a daughter," he continued, "and she's the spitting image of her mother. Except she has my eyes. She's the sweetest little girl, absolutely beautiful, except she may have followed in the footsteps of her old man…maybe _too much_. One day, she comes to me, and she's found my knife I'd hidden under my bed. A bit like…this one. And she asks me, 'Why do you have this, daddy? Isn't it _terribly _dangerous?' She's only a child, she doesn't know the danger. What can I do? At that time, I was in a dark pit of despair…and she knew it. We didn't have money for me to get help, she couldn't take it. I just wanted to let my little girl know I was happy! So…I took the knife off my baby, and I said to her that knives make me a happy man. I carve this…on myself, while she watches. And you know what? She was grinning. She didn't care about my _horrific _face! That was my girl. And now I always have this smile, so she'll always know her father is happy. She's not the serious type…in fact…the madness has gotten to her too. I can't stand the fact I've given it to her! Poor little girl. But she understands me…the only one who does! Oh and, uh…you might wanna keep the fact I _have _a daughter a little secret, hmm? Because if anyone finds out…well…I can't lose her again."

"You…you sick freak!" the woman screamed. "That…that _child_…that poor child!"

"That _poor child _adores me, lady," Joker snorted, shaking her head frantically with his hands. "_You're_ not going to take her away from me. _No one _is. In fact, just to make doubly sure of that…" I watched him take the knife to her throat, where she squealed in pain. "Now, now, now, be quiet so I can do this _properly_," Joker snapped at her. There was soon another body falling to the ground after a shrill scream of agony, and she joined the body I'd shot down. As I looked closely at her lifeless body, I saw her throat had been completely slashed, blood spuming everywhere. I didn't expect such a sight to make me wince, but it did, and I looked away from the victim. Joker casually began walking down the line again, before looking outwards to the emergency exit door. He impatiently flopped his arms. "What am I waiting for, a circus?!" he suddenly yelled. He whirled around to face us all again. "You lot, dispose of these people, and by that I don't mean letting 'em go. I'm gonna check where this damn money is."

He headed out towards the door ahead of him, and I jumped a mile when I heard multiple gunshots instantly fire behind me. I soon turned around to see almost a pile of corpses now before me, like they had appeared from nowhere. Until I saw there was one hostage left, who had been left unguarded. Theo, who was behind me, sauntered over to the man who was trying to escape, and I glanced towards the main entrance, where dozens of people were banging on the door and shouting muffled demands, their faces full of shock and despair. All I could think was how the hell we were going to get out of there.

Theo had managed to get the last remaining guy and was holding him by his brunette locks. He was on his knees, his hands tied behind his back and Theo was forcefully holding him up to look at him, as he screamed muffled into his gag. Theo was muttering inaudible threats into his ear, while I looked around hopefully at the other thugs to do something about killing the last hostage, who was worth nothing, because Theo wasn't just getting it done with. I could hear the other three of The Joker's men, one of which was this frustratingly familiar-looking James, casually nattering amongst themselves.

"I didn't know the boss had a daughter," one of them said, sounding shocked.

"You're really going to believe _that _story?" James said. "I mean, when I was with him the first time I heard tons of these apparent 'stories.' One was about when he had a wife, I don't believe he was ever _married_."

"Well the woman must've been mad for marrying him," the third chuckled. "If she ever existed."

"Hey, pal!" I called. The three of them scowled at me, impatiently. "How do you know none of that's true? What if he _does _have a daughter? What if he _did _have a…lover at one point?"

"How would you know, you little freak?" James snickered.

"Because–"

"Where the hell did you even _come _from anyway?" the first thug asked, making them all laugh, including Theo who _still _hadn't shot the last hostage.

"It doesn't _matter _where I came from," I snarled. "I am one of you, you idiot. I am a member of his gang, female or not."

"Bullshit, why would he hire a _woman_?" James laughed.

"I said _exactly _the same thing, dude!" Theo called over.

The anger bolted inside of me, making me shoot my gun towards him.

"You wanna take the piss out me again, sweetheart?" I threatened. I wasn't scared of this foolish cunt. Not one _bit_. Not one inch of me felt threatened by him. I was lucky I had dad's fearless genes. "Because you _saw _me shoot that man just now. _With my eyes closed_. So don't underestimate me, you bunch of ass-lickers."

"Ooooh!" they all sneered in chorus.

"Watch out for the little criminal princess, boys!" James spluttered into laughter.

"My name is _Jane_…James…Princess Jane Price," I stated, calmly. "Get it right."

"Well then, Jane Price, why don't you all tell us how you met The Joker?" the first thug asked.

"I've known him a long time, uh…" I said.

"Stan."

"I've known him a long time, _Stan_."

"How long exactly?"

"None of your business," I snapped. "Just fucking accept I'm here, okay?"

"And I thought having Harley was bad enough," James mumbled.

"Well I'll give you that one, she is pretty annoying," I said.

"She's an obsessive freak!" Stan exclaimed.

"Tell me about it," I scoffed. "_I'm _not, though. No. I do things for myself."

"If that's the case, why you working with The Joker?" the third goon asked.

I heard Theo grunt from the other side as he held the hostage firmer in his grip. I groaned in obvious annoyance and darted the gun in his direction instead.

"For fuck's sake Theo!" I shouted. "Just shoot the little whiny bastard!"

"To be honest, I got too distracted with your bitchy arrogance," Theo smirked. "Kinda attractive. Besides, he's being good and staying in my grip, aren't you?"

"Oh my god, fucking hell," I groaned. I loaded the gun and immediately fired a bullet in that direction, but I skilfully shot it at the victim and not Theo. Hey, when you've been holding a gun constantly since you were thirteen you get pretty good at aiming. I startled them all as well, seeing their open-mouthed expressions after I ended the guy's life. I grinned triumphantly and said, "Well, that's better, isn't it?"

"Cocky bitch," Stan mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" I questioned.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" he said, mockingly.

I whizzed the gun and aimed it at Stan, loading it in warning. I didn't realise Theo had now stepped over the motionless, blood-oozing bodies and had now walked right up to my face.

"Don't you even think about it," he hissed.

"What are you going to do, big man?" I spat, lowering the gun away from Stan and bearing my eyes into Theo, menacingly. An unwanted yelp escaped my mouth when he yanked me by the collar. "Get off me!" I screamed at him.

"You still wanna be The Joker's bitch then, huh?" he scolded.

"His _bitch_?" I cried. "I'm his–"

"_Hatchett_!"

A demonic yell made Theo drop me on the floor in alarm, where I coughed and lifted myself up to look ahead, where I now saw The Joker had re-entered the room, as well as Harley and a four other goons, wearing clown masks. He slowly approached us both, and I looked over my shoulder to see James, Stan and the other guy had now scattered away like escaped cockroaches to join Harley and the other thugs, who were beckoning them out through the emergency door by waving their arms frantically. I, however, didn't dare move when I saw The Joker, still without makeup and was looking like dad (except with a damaged face), approach me and Theo. He stood above me, and I looked back down at the floor like I was bowing to him. I heard him chuckle. My schizophrenic paranoia kicked in, as I thought I was up for a punishment.

"B-Boss, I…" Theo stammered.

"Shut up," Joker snapped.

"But she–"

"I said _shut up_!" His voice somehow changed back to soft and kind in two seconds flat when he addressed me. "Stand up, Princess Jane," he instructed. I stumbled to my feet and looked down at the floor in shame. "Look at me." I looked up, biting my lip in embarrassment. "Don't look ashamed," he said, sharply. "It's _you_, Hatchett that should be ashamed."

"Boss, really, she started–"

"Is that _anyway _to treat a princess, Hatchett?" Joker asked, talking to him like a strict teacher would a naughty schoolboy.

"Oh come on, boss, she–"

"Quiet!" He grabbed him by his collar, making me step back to watch. "Only _I _can do such things as that, you hear?" he hissed. "Are you some sort of fool? She's _dangerous_, an' I mean that. Now, join the others through that door and help 'em load the money into the van before you join these guys!" He pointed at the corpses on the floor. "Understand, Theo?"

"Yes, boss!" he cried.

"Good!" He threw him violently to the floor and spat on him, kicking Theo hard until he turned back to me. "And you, don't let him do that to you, your highness," he said, sternly. "You're better than that. We clear, little one?"

"Of course," I replied. He raised an eyebrow, expectantly. "Of course, _boss_," I corrected myself.

"You can go, as well," The Joker said, pointing his gun in that direction. "They're loading money into Ivy's van _and _James's car…well, _borrowed _car. Now hurry up!"

I immediately scampered to the exit door, bursting through it and following the corridor, which eventually led outside to a muddy concrete area that was 'private', at the back of the bank. Harley had obviously driven the van round the back, where a large red fiesta was parked beside it. They were all quickly loading bags of money into the boots of both vehicles.

"Hey, PJ, a little help?!" Harley called.

I slumped over to her and started to help her pile the heavy bags of money into the van, eventually Theo Hatchett joining us, too, and The Joker himself. Once all the money was loaded, they all started filing into the van one by one. This stopped when Joker fired his gun for attention.

"Hang on, _hang _on…" he said, calmly. They all immediately halted in their tracks. "Don't get in _just _yet." He turned to me, grinning widely. Much to my surprise, he came up to me and stroked my face with his gloved hand, just like dad would have done. "You get in the front, princess, like a good girl," he said, softly. I instantly climbed into the front seat of the van and slammed the door. I winded down the window and leaned far out to continue witnessing the action. "James, you lead us to your place in your car," Joker said next.

"Yes, boss," James said, getting into 'his car.'

"Harley, you go with him," The Joker ordered.

"What? But Mister J…" she began.

Within a second, he was towering above her.

"Now, now, sweetheart," he chuckled. "You don't want to get me _angry_ now, do you? Because I already am a little grouchy as it is."

"Yes, sir," she squeaked, as The Joker patted her head and she got in the passenger seat next to James.

The Joker then turned to three of the four masked thugs.

"Don't need you three," he stated, and the next thing I knew each of their lives had ended straightaway with three gunshots and three bodies collapsing on the floor one by one. Harley squealed with laughter at the sight, and I had a chuckle to myself, knowing I was superior, that I was chosen to sit in the van while they winded up dead. "Stan, in with James," Joker commanded, not looking at Stan, who was behind him.

"Yes, boss," Stan said, scrambling into the back seat of the car.

"Same with you, Theo," Joker said. Theo slumped into the car and sat next to Stan. Then there were only two thugs left. Without warning, The Joker shot the man nearest to the van, who was the thug I didn't know the name of, joining the other dead thugs, before turning back to the last remaining goon, the fourth and last masked criminal. "Mikey, you in the car," The Joker commanded.

'Mikey' took the last place in the car and just as The Joker started walking round the other side of the van to get in the driver's seat, I leaned round the window to see them all scowling in jealously at me. Joker slammed the car door and revved up immediately, and as soon as he did, James reversed his car into the wide space, before shooting off round the bank and onto the road. The Joker reversed Ivy's van and followed him full speed ahead, shooting past all the people who were still trying to break into the bank. I allowed the wind to rush through my clown-painted face, as I leaned out of the window like a dog. The Joker raced the van down the chaotic Gotham City streets.

"Princess Jane, put your head back in," The Joker sniggered. "The cops are gonna be on my tracks as it is and that's not gonna help." I came back into the car and wound the window up again, but I couldn't help still giggling to myself. "Are you a real princess?" Joker asked, still in hysterics.

"No, but my daddy said I was a princess," I replied.

"Hmm…your father was a strange man," The Joker said.

"Yeah, but I loved it. Anyway, J, what are we going to do with all this money? Do we actually need it?"

"I haven't, uh…quite _decided _upon that, yet, Jane," he replied. "I guess it was just a way to convince those idiots to work for me, because all they want is money, that's what _they _think they're going to get out of it."

"Just like Larry, hey, boss?"

"Torres was a coward. These men…not so much. That's why I just _killed _the ones who _were _I believed, were useless."

"I'm not useless, am I, Joker?"

"Oh no, no, no, no…" He giggled sinisterly, running his tongue through his lips. "You're use_ful_, doll. Believe me…you are."

He burst into insane laughter as he continued to follow James's car down the road. The more he laughed, the more contagious it became, triggering my schizoid mind to laugh with him. So of course, I went and laughed, too, even though I was slightly nervous by The Joker's laughter, and even more scared about what he was going to use me for.

We eventually arrived in a dirty, scummy street that was probably Gotham's highest point of poverty, even worse than it was in Gotham Town. Joker parked Ivy's van behind James's fiesta. We all assembled, Joker warningly pointing his gun at the little children who curiously came up to see the commotion. James was getting out some keys and unlocked a front door to the nearest flat. Without saying a word, all of the thugs started unloading the money from the boots from the vehicles. I helped with this, and James directed them to put the money in his basement.

Once all of that was done, The Joker ordered for us all to watch the news, while he would re-stylise himself to look like his crazy clown criminal self again. However, as all the thugs filed into James's living room, Joker grabbed my arm to restrain me from following them.

"Ah, ah, ah…not you, PJ," he said, licking his lips.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Come 'ere," he instructed. I didn't really need to because he practically pulled me one side, steering me away from the living room door. "Now. You're aware of my operation."

"Yes," I said, nodding convincingly.

"You know what daddy's gonna get up to, don't you?" he continued.

"Yes," I answered, although I wasn't fully aware.

"So what's the point of you watchin' the news when you know everything that's going to happen?" he asked, rhetorically.

"Well, I guess–"

"Shh, shh, shh…you _know _why Torres was murdered, which may appear on the news. You _know _why we robbed the bank–"

"Well, not _exactly_."

"It was a distraction and a _warning _to the cops! Don't you listen?"

"Of course I do."

"Hmm…" He shook his head. His eyes squinted as he carefully examined my face. "Seems like you need to top up your war paint, sweetheart. You go have a little break while you do that."

I immediately touched my face out of self-consciousness. As he walked away to go up the stairs, I stared at him in shock that a psycho would say something like 'take a break.'

"Are you serious?" I called after him.

He stood stiff in his tracks, not facing me.

"I'm _never _serious, Princess Jane," he said.

"But you honestly _don't_ want me to sit in there and see the news with the others?"

"What did I just say, princess?"

"To…to have a break."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Where?"

"Find somewhere in this house. Have a little explore. You're a smart girl, you'll find something to do."

"And then what?"

"What were my _orders_, Shaylee?"

I was taken aback by the usage my real name.

"To…to have a break, dad," I mumbled. "And then…top up my clown makeup."

"Good girl. Now _get going_," he ordered, gruffly.

He sauntered up the stairs and slammed the door behind him. I heard all the thugs and Harley laughing in the sitting room, while the TV was blaring. There was a mention of sharing cocaine out among themselves, so I was kind of glad I wasn't in there after all. I was so shocked being called Shaylee again it took me a while to move. Even if I hadn't been Princess Jane for twenty-four hours yet. I just stood there for a while, doing nothing. I listened to what seemed like an argument erupting in my head.

_Jane, Jane, Jane, what are you going to do now? _a sinister voice said._ He's not your father anymore. He's The Joker. A murderous psychopath._

_Don't lose hope, Shaylee! _a sweeter, more innocent voice argued._ He's still your father! He's in your life again now, and he's proud of you._

"Yeah, proud of me for being a murderous girl," I muttered.

_He's still proud of you._

_But what happens when it all goes overboard, Jane? You can't keep falling back into the fact he was once a loving father to you. He's a psychopathic clown now!_

"Stop it!" I snapped, clutching my head.

_He loves you, Shaylee._

_A psychopath loves __**no one**__, Princess Jane. Not even their family, their __**children**__. You're nothing but a slave. _

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I grunted. I rushed into the nearest empty room, which turned out to be a small kitchen. I leaned over the wooden table and breathed heavily, trying to drive away what seems to be my conscious angel and devil quarrelling with each other, trying to corrupt me. "No, no, no…" I murmured. "Stop it, stop it…"

God, I fucking hate being schizophrenic.

Once I managed to settle the imaginary argument in my head (which at this point I was fully aware only I could hear) I paced up and down the kitchen to calm myself and the adrenaline, before I got _really _mad.

As I walked up and down the room, something caught my eye that was on the shelf on the other side of the room. I curiously walked over to discover it was a photo frame that was golden and looked pretty expensive and well-done to be in a criminal's house. The golden frame had gleamed, which made it catch my eye's attention. I put my gun to one side (as I was still holding it) and picked the frame up, cleaning the picture with my glove, as it was infested in dust. The picture was so old and dark that I couldn't make it out properly, but luckily the kitchen had a back door which lead to a small garden, so I went outside as the door was surprisingly unlocked and viewed the picture in the clearer daylight. The garden had a small pathway down the side of the flat, with a gate at the end, and in this pathway the picture was in much broader daylight, so I stood in this pathway, lined with garbage bins that luckily didn't smell too disgusting.

I wasn't sure why my curiosity was so high, but I guess I needed something to do. The Joker had just randomly decided to let me do fuck all, while the rest of the thugs and Harley hung out. It was like being the loser in school, being pushed out of a party because I was the outcast and nobody wanted to know. So really, it was nothing new to me.

My curiosity didn't die, as I continued to look at the picture, which displayed a man, woman and a little boy in the woman's arms, the little boy being no more than four years old. The little boy looked extremely similar to the woman, so I presumed that they were his parents. The man was blatantly James, but a younger, much better looking version.

My heart skipped a beat when I realised what I was looking at.

The woman looked an awful lot like Julia Delancey.

Was that little boy Chase? I could certainly see the resemblance. He looked extremely cute with his chock of dark hair that I adored and that gorgeous smile, even as toddler he still had it. The smile on the woman's face was how Julia had smiled when I first met her.

Chase's dad was called James. His middle name was James, after him.

But that was ludicrous, Chase said his dad had been in and out of his life and hardly ever been there for him. He told me James and Julia divorced when he was six, because James was a violent criminal drug addict who beat his mom up.

So…this James…this was _Chase's dad _James?

So it maybe it really _was_ true. I _had_ encountered Chase's father. I thought maybe I'd gone a bit crazy at that point for thinking this, but I'm sure I wasn't seeing things. I was convinced this was the truth. No wonder he looked familiar. Chase had shown me a picture of his dad way back when we were together.

James Delancey, my ex's father, was working for The Joker?

No, no…this _couldn't _be true.

But then again, Chase always said he was a violent thug who was a criminal and was never there for him after he and his mom divorced, but as a little toddler he _was _there for him.

This wasn't my paranoia, was it? No, I wasn't out of my mind. This _must _have been true. All the pieces fit.

I couldn't believe it. This was the most extraordinary coincidence ever.

I stroked the photo tenderly, and I couldn't help but smile down at toddler Chase, who looked just as cute as he did when we first got together. He looked so beautiful.

Chase was nothing like his father, that's for sure. He was like his mom.

I was feeling like Shaylee again as I recalled Chase and all the memories that went with him.

But I was starting to dislike feeling like Shaylee Napier again.

But on the other hand, Chase fell in love with Shaylee, not Jane. He didn't even _know _Jane. Well, maybe he was going to know soon if I suddenly appeared on the news.

But being the young, dumb in love teen I was I thought Chase would understand, because no one else would.

I lifted my head up from the picture, closing my eyes as I went deep into thought and just allowed myself to relax from all the madness that had been slashed into my life in just a short space of time.

The thoughts of The Joker so far sparing my life made me chuckle. The fact he still, in an odd way, appreciated me as a daughter, made me grin.

Although I knew it was dangerous, for some revenge-based reason I thought I was doing the right thing by working with Joker.

No, I was with my father again.

I'd shown I was exactly like him. I'd shown so far I was a threat, not a weakling.

I was no slave.

I thought nothing could go wrong now The Joker's men knew not to mess with me.

That was, until I was grabbed backwards by my top and pinned up against the wall, making me drop the framed picture on the floor. I had been so absorbed in my thoughts I hadn't noticed someone had crept up behind me. I didn't hear a thing.

When I was pinned against the wall, a large hand slammed over my mouth while my right wrist was jammed up against the wall. I struggled uselessly, trying to escape from what turned out to be the grasp of Theo himself. His breath smelt just has hideous as his wrinkled face was, with his black sideburns and greasy dark hair. I thought I could outwit his strength, but I realised I wasn't as strong as I thought as I squirmed like a helpless little girl in his grasp. I used my free arm to try and push him away, but Theo removed his hand from my mouth and pinned up the other one too. I gasped heavily when I had air, now allowing Theo to see the huge scowl on my face.

"You let _go _of me!" I shrieked. "What the fuck are you _doing_? Where did _you _come from?"

"Aw, look at you, thinking you're so strong because you're working for The Joker?" he chuckled. "You think you can just masterfully wriggle away from a grown man, huh, little girl?"

A cunning grin now on his lips, as I grunted, still trying to escape from his overpowering strength.

"Let go of me, you fucking cunt!" I warned, through gritted teeth. "Shouldn't _you _be in there with them lot watching the news ready to inform The Joker? Why the fuck are you out here giving it large to _me_? Let _go _of me!"

He pinned my back up against the wall, harder, still grinning his black teeth at me. I looked into his, noticing they were heavily bloodshot. Theo has blatantly just had a whiff of cocaine before he came parading out into the garden.

"The Joker's busy playing dress-up," Theo said. "Getting himself dressed into his normal clothes again and putting his war paint on, didn't he tell you? Becoming a lunatic again. He's not _with _us at the moment."

"He's _not_ a lunatic," I snarled.

"He is, and he's also very _foolish_. I'm sorry darling, but this is a man's world. In my view, The Joker must be a _fool_…must've gone _really crazy _for letting a little girl like _you _on his team thinking it'll do him some _good_! All women are good for is to pleasure a man and look after 'em, little girls like you should be in a factory _making _knives for us, not _carrying _one!"

"Fucking let me go, you sexist pig!" I shouted, still writhing away. "If The Joker finds you doing this to me he'll incinerate you and have the blood in your eyes for breakfast!"

He guffawed cruelly into my face.

"Aw, bless ya," he laughed. "The Joker's busy right now, remember? Or do you forget orders quickly? You really think The Joker will favour _you_ over one of his men? I think _not_, sweetheart."

"You fucking idiot!" I yelled. "You don't understand! Unlike _you_, The Joker isn't a sexist asshole!"

"Shut your little mouth," he snapped.

"What makes you think you can stop me, huh?"

"This."

His hand bitterly clasped over my mouth again, and my free hand managed to punch him in the cheek, making him fumble sideways and twisting my wrist in the process, making me groan under my breath. With a frustrated grunt, he threw me onto the ground, and I idiotically tried to kick him off me again, but he soon had me in his clutch again and jammed me onto the floor by my wrists above my head. The concrete bashing my head made me groan in pain. Theo grabbed a gun from his jacket pocket and jabbed it into the side of my head. I panted hard, but as always I attempted to not look threatened by him, even though inside I felt my heart ripping out of my ribcage. Theo came on top of me so there was no escape, pinning my head back to the floor with his hand choking my neck, and his other hand kept _both _my wrists pinned above my head, like they were tied together. Worry started to etch into my painted face.

"W-What are you going to do?" I questioned, still trying to struggle away. I desperately tried to prevent the tremble in my voice. "You going to kill me because you're jealous that _I'm _The Joker's favourite and you're not? Ugly bastard."

"There's only one reason why he's let you and that crazy bitch Harley Quinn into his gang," he muttered. "It's only so he can have a bit of fun with the both of you. He'll have his fun and then kill both of you because you're not going to help him do what he wants to Gotham. Look at you both, dressing up and giving yourselves different names to impress him?"

I couldn't help but splutter into immature chuckles at that moment.

"You fucking idiot!" I laughed. "That's not true! Joker's worked with Harley _for years_. He doesn't just want to fuck her, you know! And _me_?! I'm his–"

"Shut up!" he ordered, choking me harder. He smiled at me in a lustful manner. It made vomit in my throat start to build up. Thank god he was choking me so it couldn't flow out of my mouth. "You know you are very attractive for a little girl," he said, hungrily.

"I'm seventeen, you fucking twat," I hissed. "It's not like I'm a little kid!"

"Seventeen still little in my eyes."

"Well then you're a _sick_ bastard for choking a seventeen year old girl, aren't you?"

"Oh no." He laughed loudly. "Seems you're not as easy as that Harley is. Our boy Mikey told me he had a little cheeky play with her round the back of the bank before, and she's meant to be obsessed with The Joker, huh? Well if that's the case maybe we could all have a bit of fun with Harley, but I thought…why not have a taste of the best little slut in Gotham?"

I glared at him, filled with disgust. "If you're referring to _me_…" I gritted.

"Harley told me you've slept with fourteen guys already in the car. Fourteen guys at seventeen years old? That seems like a nasty little whore to me, sweetheart. Bet not all of the guys you've had were that good, huh?"

"Of course not but–"

"So I thought I should try out The Joker's precious little princess…have a little taste of Princess Jane. He must be very foolish to hire a worthless frigid bitch–"

"I'm _not_!"

"You're not what? Frigid?"

"No, I'm not _worthless_!"

"Ahh, not denying you're not frigid though, are you?"

"Get _off _me!"

Theo loaded the gun that was still dug into the side of my head, making me squeal unintentionally.

"Do you want me to shoot?" he threatened. "Because I will."

"You _can't_ do that!" I wailed. "You could _never_! If you did that, then The Joker will have your head!"

"Oh, but I could always tell him that his poor little Princess Jane felt like she couldn't cope with the _horror _that is working with him and helping to commit severe crime in this City. You don't know what you're getting yourself into, you know that, right? It's not safe for a seventeen year old girl. I could tell J that poor Jane felt _so _helpless, she didn't know _where _to turn and just decided to…end it. End her life there and then before she was hurt…"

"_No_! You wouldn't _dare_!"

"Oh I would."

With all my strength I tried to push him off me, but his strength was too overwhelming. He kept me pinned to the floor like helpless prey and laughed as my true feminine strength shone through.

"You fucking sick freak!" I yelled at him. "Let me go or…or…"

"Or what?" he questioned.

"You seriously think you can get away with murdering me and The Joker not noticing?"

"That's why I'm prepared to make a deal with her highness," he laughed, mockingly.

"At least get me off the fucking floor!" I yelled. "_Now_!"

He gazed at me with a lazy smirk. I glared at him.

"Okay then," he finally said, much to my surprise.

He released me and stood to his feet, but he still had the gun in his hand. Once I struggled to my feet, I glared at him again, folding my arms after I'd brushed the dirt off my gloves. I expected him to start talking to me, but for some unknown reason he was looking at me, expectantly, like he was ready for _me_ to make a move.

I took this to an advantage.

I wouldn't let some asshole corrupt me.

I launched myself at him, before harshly kicking him in the nuts with my high heel. He certainly didn't expect that, as he cowered over in pain, clutching his crotch. He moaned in agony a little, and with this opportunity I tried to reach over and grab the gun from his hand, pushing him to the ground as hard as I could while I did, but of course he soon pushed me over again, and snapped the gun down at me as he stood up sharply. He stayed there scowling at me for a few moments, while I pathetically squirmed, trying to stumble to my feet in my high heels. I didn't need to when he grabbed my top and staggered me onto my feet, slamming me against the wall again.

"Feisty one, are we?" Theo snarled, putting the gun to my head again. I grunted loudly and then spat in his face. Bad mistake. He growled loudly and forcefully turned me around, slamming my head and whole body against the wall and gripping my wrists behind my back. I mumbled with frustration as I continued to fail to escape his grasp. Theo came behind my ear. "_That_…was not wise, Jane," he growled.

"You get the _fuck off me_!" I grunted. "Won't you get the picture?!"

I screamed when Theo blasted a gunshot into the air, as the gunshot pierced out my eardrums. That was all that was needed to start my head reeling loudly. So loudly in fact, I could barely hear Theo's panting anymore. I was panting hard myself, tired from struggling so much. He loaded the gun again and put it to my head.

"I think _you're _the one who doesn't get the picture," he hissed into my face.

I gasped when I felt his hand start to trail up my skirt and pulling my leggings down, but of course I couldn't stop him, despite trying so hard to struggle away, but he kept me trapped against the wall, forcing my face to be scratched by the red brick. I was trying with all the strength I had in me, but nothing seemed to be working. That made me even angrier and I let out an eruptive yell of frustration. Not just of frustration, but with fear. I didn't know what was going to happen to me, making me start to question my existence in this gang after all.

"Get off me, you…you disgusting pervert!" I screamed, my voice now shaking. "You think you're just as intimidating as The Joker but you're _not_!"

You must understand, I was only acting this way because I felt like I was in danger. Usually I would never have been intimidated by a man trying to be threatening in my face and trying to pin me down, but Theo was armed with a gun and I felt was close to actually killing me with no hesitation. I could feel his anger behind me from his distorted breathing.

I couldn't have that. I couldn't let some asshole try to mess with my mind.

I continued squirming frantically, but I heard Theo grunt and his hand bash my head against the wall.

"Keep still!" he shouted.

His hand then trailed down back to my bottom, which was now bare as he lifted my skirt up and practically ripped my leggings off where he harshly grabbed it and spanked me hard. I squealed loudly, still wriggling around. I grunted as I kicked my leg backwards into his own, making him stumble, letting one of my wrists go, so I immediately took the opportunity to let my free hand make me escape. I frantically waved it and used it to push myself around, managing to push Theo's other hand away from my other wrist. Once I was free I briskly shot around and slapped him hard across the face where he staggered over and held onto his face.

I tried to make a run for it, carrying my legs as far as the backdoor, but as soon as my hand touched the handle, a hand came over my mouth again, and I screamed hysterically into Theo's cold hand again. With his gun back into my head, he pulled me effortlessly back with him into the pathway, where I was chucked back onto the concrete like a worthless ragdoll. Panting hard until my windpipe burst, I shuffled backwards as he approached me.

"Stay away from me!" I cried.

I wanted to sound threatening but for the first time I felt like I was now pleading.

Theo just snarled and suddenly leaned over and grabbed me by my top.

"You're going to _regret _trying to fight me," he hissed.

"What do you expect me to _do_?!" I whined, now feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

"I thought The Joker would have hired a female with a lot more _spunk _than that," he chuckled.

He then pinned me on my back again, climbing on top of me to make sure I didn't get away, but I still squirmed pointlessly. He dug the gun back into the side of my head, warningly, but that didn't stop me from trying to escape. My legging, which were still down my legs (although they hadn't reached the knees), were know being viciously pulled down to my ankles by Theo, almost ripping them away from my legs. I found my lips were quivering as more tears spilled out when I saw he was unzipping his pants.

"_Theo_!" I wailed. "Get the _fuck off me_! _Get off me_! _Please_! Don't…don't do this!"

Instead, he came off me and tried to forcefully open my legs, his penis was now exposed, making we wince but also cower in fear.

I knew for sure what he was planning to do to me.

I responded by obviously kicking him hard in the nuts when he tried to open my legs. He groaned and I was free, once again I tried to stumble to my feet.

Only again to be pinned down, my head crashed against the concrete, exploding the voices. A foot kicked me agonisingly hard in my side. The gun was put to my head and loaded. My legs forced open, also I tried with all my might to get him off me. My panties pushed aside. A loud spit. Me squirming in fright. My hand pinned to the floor with his other arm.

So weak, so helpless.

And then it happened.

"_NO_! No, no, no, no…._no_! _No_! NO!"

He pounded away, losing himself completely, while I grunted and screamed in horror. He wouldn't stop. There was no escape now.

He towered above my face, glaring at me as he continued to weaken me.

Because that's what he was doing, weakening me.

"Yeah, you tough now you dirty little slut?" he spat in my face, literally. "Yeah, you like that _really_, don't you? Proves I was right, you're not tight _at all_. Nasty bitch."

I couldn't answer him because I was weeping too much. The tears were streaming so much they were now sticky on my cheeks, smudging my makeup everywhere, making me look hideous.

I could do nothing. I was being dominated. As much as I'd tried to be strong and fight him, I could do nothing to stop him.

I felt humiliated, from being so strong, a sadistic supporter of the Clown Prince of Crime, to now a helpless, pathetic little teenage girl, a rape victim of a violent criminal. I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been, underestimating how dangerous and cruel the crime scene really is. How I stupidly just joined thinking it was no big deal, and how I'd be protected by The Joker.

No. This was the real world. The real world is full of monsters like Theo Hatchett. In my mind, Theo was more a monster than The Joker.

As I remained on the floor, his prey, being spat in the face, hit in the face with the gun, crying every last tear within me, I started to believe this was the end of my life. That Theo was just going to keep his word and kill me straight afterwards.

_Jane, Jane…kill him! Stop him! You can't let him weaken you!_

How? I thought.

_Grab the gun…do something! Save yourself! Kill him! Kill him, kill him, kill him._

"I'm going to kill you," I whispered to Theo.

My mind started to possess me.

"Good…luck…with…that," he grunted, still pounding me without my consent.

_Do it! Show you're not weak!_

I began to writhe as aggressively and forcefully as I could, trying to push him off me with my heels. I screamed and screamed and screamed even though my throat couldn't take anymore. Theo kept me in his grasp, making my skin crawl and the fire within my eyes start to flare up.

Then, without thinking, I spat sharply in his eyeball, targeting it wonderfully. I didn't even smile when I saw him groan like the coward he was. He had no choice but to move his hand off my wrist to come to his eye to wipe it, and when this happened, I used my hand to try and push him off me, but when I was unsuccessful, I spat in his face again and slapped him with my free hand punched his ugly face hard and then his stomach as hard as I could. Despite this, he still remained inside me, but as he groaned in shock pain from my punches I speedily managed to grab the gun he was holding to my head. I kicked him hard again, this time successfully pushing him off me and he flopped beside me, coming out of me. He rolled around in pain, and I couldn't help but kick him over and over again in his side to weaken him, as he did me, stomping on his stomach.

He glared up at me.

I screamed deafeningly nonstop, and then I gladly let the gun fire.

_Kill him, kill him, kill him_, they were commanded, laughing as they did it.

Like any other time I was in for the kill, swirling flames lit up around me, from my eyesight only. This happened because Lucifer himself was talking to me, making me a murderous wretch.

But I needed to be. Theo deserved to die, by _anybody's _standards. He had destroyed my strength. Within minutes, he had humiliated me and made me weak.

But I wasn't weak, I was a fighter.

I was Princess Jane, and Princess Jane killed people. Shaylee held back. _Jane_ doesn't hold back from killing people who deserve to have their life ripped out of them.

I pulled the trigger and several bullets bounced gorgeously off Theo, each one making more and more red ooze out of him, as he flopped onto the ground, becoming motionless immediately. But that didn't stop me. I wailed at the top if my lungs as I continued to fire at the corpse, unleashing all my anger and screaming at the voices to tell them to leave me. I ended Theo's life with several gunshots all over his body, and finally I leaned down, and with one last shrill scream, I shot a bullet through his skull, completely destroying his brain and putting a definite end to this sexist, evil, conniving rapist, who inside, was nothing but a _coward_. A piece of shit.

Once I rightly killed Theo, I made the gun soar ahead of me as I threw it ahead, and I watched it slam loudly against the gate.

I collapsed onto my knees, next to Theo's dead body. The pain and anger inside me couldn't stop me from screaming and crying. I curled up into a ball and cried, powerlessly.

I was on the floor, broken and defeated, sobbing every last inch of me out of my soul. The blood on my gloves remained smiling up at me, although I was unsure how it got there. My hands were stinging all over, the tears through the silk onto my hands just made it worse, but it was okay. I wanted to punish myself for being so useless.

I glared at Theo's corpse in disgust. I was shaking. Not only shaking in fear, but in rage. The rage inside my heart was at boiling point, I was infuriated I hadn't been strong enough to stop Theo from losing himself within me. I did try with all mu might, but I started to believe he was right, I was nothing but a feeble female who had gotten herself into the most dangerous lifestyle a seventeen year old girl could experience.

Theo was right. I had underestimated the danger.

I finally managed to stumble to my feet, trembling with all of my evident weakness. I had to use the wall to help regain my strength. The voices were going crazy and the flames wouldn't stop burning. I just couldn't stop them. With my weak hands I re-dressed my bare legs with my ripped leggings and put my skirt back into place. I banged my head against the brick wall, weeping like the sad little girl I was, prodding it several times to punish myself.

"Help," I whispered, feebly, like a lost child. "Help me. Please. Someone help me."

A few moments of whimpering went by until a figure appeared at the end of the path. I shot my head on its direction, to discover it was The Joker himself, wearing the full-on makeup, his hair back combed and wearing the usual clown suit, tie and coat.

"Princess Jane?" His voice had a sharpened edge, so I obediently faced him, in front of Theo's body, daring not to look away. The pathway had suddenly darkened as clouds were ironically now appearing overhead, so I could barely see Joker, even when he now loomed above me. I nervously glanced up at his orbs of blackness. I hated the fact I was still shaking, the tears making my clown makeup start to deteriorate vastly, making me look more and more like Shaylee. "Why are you crying?" Joker asked. He peered behind my shoulder and raised his eyebrows in surprise at the now deceased Theo Hatchett. "Ahh…seems like Theo messed with the wrong girl, hmm?" I couldn't speak. Instead I just mumbled, softly. "Oh shh, shh…now PJ, you know how much I hate tears." He roughly wiped them away from my face with his gloved hand. "What happened?" he demanded, giving me that predatory look.

I swallowed hard.

"He…he…well…Theo…" I stammered, still crying hysterically.

"Yes?" Joker said, now ignoring my tears.

I inhaled sharply. Despite my tears, I knew I could get no sympathy from The Joker. I think that was obvious.

"Theo…Theo…raped me…" I sobbed. "He raped me."

The Joker remained expressionless.

"Elaborate, if you will," he said.

"What…what do you want me to elaborate on?!" I yelled. "He _raped _me!"

Joker suddenly turned into Theo when he grabbed me and pinned me up against the wall. I didn't see the point in trying to escape anymore.

This was it. He was going to kill me.

"Jane, you don't want to get all smart with me, do you?" he asked, sounding surprisingly composed.

"N-No, I…I'm just being truthful!" I cried. "I'm not lying!"

"Shush, shush, shush…" His finger came upon my quivering black lips. "Sh-hh…so…how exactly did he rape you, then?"

Joker removed his finger from my lips and gave me an expectant look, still having me jammed against the wall.

"Don't…don't you know how rape works?" I asked, stupidly.

"Do you think I'm such a fool I _don't _know?" Joker asked, mockingly.

I decided not to answer that question. I quickly glanced down at Theo's dead body before looking straight back into The Joker's eyes.

"He…" I gulped. "He…he came out here…pinned me up against the wall and then…then had me on the floor. He said I'm a slut and a whore and that's all you're going to use me for and then kill me. I said it was a load of bullshit, but then…oh god…"

I felt another tear streaming.

"Hey! Stop it!" Joker grunted.

"I'm sorry!" I wept, shaking my head frantically to make it stop.

I don't know what it was but I suddenly felt so weak and pathetic I couldn't carry on. My body certainly felt weak after just being raped. It felt like I couldn't walk, like I was a frigid old lady.

"Hey, hey, hey," Joker whispered. "Come on! What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing!" I cried.

"Are you telling me that Theo Hatchett raped you for no reason?!"

"He was a sexist freak! Saying all me and Harley are good for is sexual pleasure! I said it was load of shit! I do things for _myself_!"

"Shh, shh, shh." I immediately kept quiet. "Hmmm…and you murdered him just now, am I correct? Is that what _all _the screaming was for I heard?"

"Yeah…" I sniffed. "I managed to get him off me eventually by spitting in his face twice, kicking and hitting him as hard as I could, I _promise _you I did it hard because he found it painful! When I managed to get him off me I just shot him."

"More than once?"

"Obviously. I wanted to see his body _rip to shreds_!"

"So _that's _what all the commotion was, huh?"

"Yes! I swear to god! I'm not lying to you! I sound stupid and crazy but–"

"Quiet now, Jane. Do you honestly believe I wouldn't believe you?"

"Uhh…uh, well, I…"

"I've had Theo in my gang for a while. I know him very well. Told me he had eleven kids. When we've been out killing he's raped a lot of young girls. I knew Theo was that kind of a man. Wants it handed to 'im on a plate."

"So…so you don't care about the fact he _raped_ me?! A threatened to _kill_ me? And spat in my face and–"

"Didn't I just tell you to be quiet, PJ? A princess always listens to her advisors, I thought." He then dropped me with a soft growl and approached Theo's lifeless body. He lifted the corpse up by its jacket and held him aloft in the air, like he was a fairytale villain. "You know Theo never knew how I got these scars?" he said. Joker then lowered the corpse back onto the floor and bent over it. "Good job I…I didn't forget my trusted friend." He then chuckled cruelly and I crawled over to examine what he was doing. I wiped a tear away, making the face paint smear more onto my glove. Joker raised the knife to Theo's pale deceased face. "Now he'll know how it feels to be damaged," Joker said, gruffly, sounding like dad. He licks his chomps, like he was hungry for the torture. "Let's put a _smile _on that face!" he snarled. I watched him then carve a Glasgow smile like his own onto Theo's face, making blood stream out from his lips like a starving vampire. He actually looked the most attractive he'd ever been. Joker then stood up, sharply, making me fumble backwards. He towered above me, still holding the knife, of which the blade was now dripping with crimson drops of blood. "I'm really glad you disposed of that idiot, princess," he said, grinning nastily. "But there's still something that's confusing me."

"What's that?" I asked, anxiously.

"Get up," he commanded. I did so, standing as straight as I could with my broken body. "If I remember rightly," Joker continued, "you were much _stronger _than what you've just been."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, shakily.

"You've forgotten something I told _Shaylee _a long time ago," he explained. "I said to mostly everybody has a weakness. I said to her…_boys_…or maybe now _men_…have always been her weakness. _Your _weakness."

My eyes widened as I sharply wiped away another tear.

"That's simply not true!" I retorted. "So what's _your _weakness then, Joker?"

Joker came forward, closer to me, and prodded the knife lightly on my chest.

"Why doncha let _me _talk?!" he bellowed. "I have no weakness. Not anymore. Everyone…knows that."

"_Shaylee _was your weakness! _I _am your weakness!"

"Shut _up_! Let me tell you why men…are your weakness." Fear gripped my heart when his voice changed to that clown raucous tone of voice, and although I knew I should stand up for myself, I decided not to. His strict tone that had appeared made me start to shiver. I kept my eyes fixated on his. "I thought this morning was enough," he continued. "I thought your weakness had been _broken_. Your _mind_…had been broken. You…killing Torres…I thought I'd kicked back the fight in you that you'd _lost_. Just seeing how much pleasure you got from it…even if you did just use a _gun_. I thought you'd be the criminal Gotham deserved…._like me_! But what makes me up a few hours after your first murder? 'Oh Chase, oh Chase, I'll see you again!'" He raised his eyebrows, knowingly, while a frown appeared on my face. "But even so…at the bank…you gladly shot a man and coped _better _than any of the so-called _men _today…I thought my mind had changed about female criminals." He stood even further up to my face, so I felt his hot breath and saw every last inch of his golden teeth. "And now…you get broken again, by allowing _this _to happen to you."

"You don't think I tried to stop him?!" I answered back, rather foolishly. "I tried so hard to fight him away, _so _fucking much! I beat him and kicked him and I _nearly _got away at one point…but…I _did _beat him! I _killed _him! Look! I shot him!

"And I...I uh, I _am _pleased about that, PJ," Joker said, still scowling. "But did he, or did he not, rape you, like you just _claimed_?!"

"Yes! Yes he did!"

"What did I tell you last night? Hmm?"

"What…what are you talking about?"

"What did I say is the only sensible way to live in this world?"

I paused as I sighed quietly.

"To fight."

"And _you_…you didn't fight–"

"I _did_!"

"Obviously not _hard_ enough, little one, huh?"

"You expect me to overpower a grown man's strength?!"

"Shhh…now, now, now don't be angry…" I paused, stuttering confusingly. I wasn't at all sure what to say or where Joker was going with this. Like I said, he's very unpredictable. A small smirk emerged on his face, making my heart race. "You know…Jane…I am impressed you managed to kill 'im…but…and this is a big but…" He raised his knife to my face, making me flinch in shock. "Calm down. What I mean, your ladyship, is that I can't help but wonder how didn't mange to _shoot _'im sooner…why didn't ya just do it as soon as he grabbed you?!"

"I…I couldn't get it off him!" I exclaimed. "He was digging it into my head and said he was going to shoot–"

"You mean he just grabbed your gun off you and immediately armed _himself _with it?" Joker asked, hoarsely. "Is that correct, you little imp?"

"It…it wasn't _my _gun, it was his own! He already had it with him!"

"Why weren't you armed with your own gun?!" he demanded, sounding like dad yelling at mom.

"Because…because I put it down in the kitchen," I explained.

"And why, may I ask, little one, did you do _that _for?"

"To be honest I didn't think I'd need it!" Joker sighed heavily, before smirking again. "Why are you smirking?" I asked.

"Am I not allowed to smirk, sweetheart?"

"No, no, it's just…just…"

"Yes?"

"Well, why would you smirk after I've just been raped?! By a member of your own gang! And it was…he…he just…did it! I swear! I don't know why he did it to me, he just _did _it!"

I couldn't stop myself from bursting into tears, even though I knew it was the worst possible thing to do in front of someone like The Joker. I covered my face as my paint became damper due to the tears, creating white smears of whiteness onto my gloves.

I got the shock of my life when The Joker suddenly pulled me into a hug.

What?!

He still had the knife in his hand, but this hug felt so awkward it didn't matter. I was stiff as a lampshade at that moment, still feeling weak and pathetic. He squeezed me hard, but continued looking outwards, as for once he didn't want to look at me.

"Look at yourself, Jane," he said softly in his clown voice. I sniffed hard. "You've gone all…_tense_. Haven't ya? Huh? I raised you to be a little fighter…a little criminal in your own right, showing these people their true colours. Because you're my loyal little girl, aren't ya? Huh? And now…_this _has happened…"

"And I _know _I should have fought harder and–"

"Be quiet!" He came out of the hug and suddenly held me at knife point. "_Don't _answer me back!"

"Why not? You said you would prefer it if your thugs answered back!" I argued.

"Not _you_!" he hissed. He purposely made his voice now sound overly-sympathetic, and for a moment I thought I saw hurt in his eyes. "Because you…when you talk to me like that…you turn into Diana! You _become _her! You're _not _her! You are Princess Jane, you understand?"

"Yes."

"And Princess Jane is _not _Shaylee. They are similar, but not the same."

"Princess Jane is no slave, Joker. She does things for herself."

"Precisely, my dear. Jane's mind is fragile...you know. I can _break _at any moment…"

"The schizophrenia doesn't help."

"But that's beside the point! The point is, darling, Jane doesn't need _anyone_. Like any other working criminal…the _highest class _of a criminal…like your old man…we don't need anyone. _No one_. Am I right?"

"Of course."

"So tell me, your highness, why do you need to see _Chase _again, hmm?"

"What...what has Chase got to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question, you hear, beautiful?"

"Y-yes, dad, I'm sorry...I...I don't _need _to see him again, but...Bradley was threatening me he was gonna keep me away from him…"

"Bradley?"

"Bradley Ingham. Chase's cousin. I lived with him for a while."

"Ahh…I take it he's a higher-class _snobby _boy who grabs all the best money when the people who live in the slums _need _that to feed their underprivileged families?"

"Well, his _parents _are like that. They have really got posh jobs. Bradley's just a mechanic, but I guess his attitude is just the same. But he was–"

"You see…the girl I witness before me right now…she seems too _weak _to get rid of people like that who look down upon people like us."

"No…no I'm not!"

"She seems too broken and _weak _and _helpless _and _worthless_ to be able to call herself a criminal…she don't have _murder _on her mind…she don't have _fight _on her mind. Now this poor little unfortunate _incident _where she didn't fight _back _hard enough has happened to her she feels she's too scared to show the world what it's truly like. Too frightened to show the _vision_. She's been _weakened_."

"_No_!"

"She's not the girl I raised, is she?"

"Yes! Yes, she is that girl!"

"She's _still _after the boy…the boy who broke her poor little heart…"

"How do you know?!"

"I can tell. He broke you, didn't he?"

"Not exactly. _I _went off the rails because I thought my life was over when we broke up."

"Then why would you want to see _him _again?"

"Because…"

"He'd be better…off…dead."

"_No_!"

The Joker laughed heartily.

"See? There she goes!" he chimed. "Here's proof that she _still _cares! Her heart still beats for her first _love_! _Mine _doesn't!"

"But…but…!" I spluttered.

The Joker released me and grabbed my wrist. With the knife he had in his hand, his slammed it into my own, and forced me to grip it tightly. He gave that terrifying sociopathic stare.

"Look what I did to _all _the people who betrayed me and let me down my whole life," he said. "Look how much _pleasure _you got from killing the man who betrayed me and…your mother. That twinkle in ya little eye…it was marvellous. Now, look at me. I may be a teensy weensy bit of a maniac, but I do things fairly. Spreading chaos maybe a fun, but it has a _purpose_, sweetheart. It creates a commotion...people don't _have _to make a fuss over what I do. They chose to because all their lives they've been brought up to believe scum like you and me…people who have things that corrupt their sorry little lives…who had _terrible _upbringings…they've been brought up to believe we should all be sent to Hell. Sometimes people who are considered _normal _can be worse than someone like me. Believe you me. They'd leave their kids in a hotel with the door unlocked while they go an' have a few beers, not worrying at all that their child would go missing. Then they wonder whose fault it is when the kid disappears? I wouldn't do something like that. If I wanted to show a kid I didn't give a damn about them…I'd show it _fairly_. You know where I'm coming from, doncha, Princess Jane?"

"Y-Yeah…" I breathed, understanding perfectly. I was absorbing every single word into my head.

"Now, what's fairer?" The Joker continued, slyly. "Letting the people you _betrayed _you…the people who, if they remain in your life, still linger there forever and still plague your already corrupted mind…what's fairer? Letting 'em live or die?"

"Die," I answered.

He made me lift up the blade, sharply.

"Why?" he asked, sharply.

"Because if they're dead…they can't pester you anymore," I replied, like it was obvious.

"But there's this other thing," Joker cut in. "This _other thing_…that I know you just love."

"What?"

"You did it to Larry Torres. You earned revenge." He nodded towards the blade. "Upset the established order…upset the people who hurt _you_…and everything becomes…"

"Chaos?"

"Not only that, but you get a sweet touch of revenge. I've had doses full of it by now. You wanna start showin' the world you're not weak? You gotta show you mean _business_ first, princess."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying…I don't want _that _idiot who you failed to fight off better…the man who _raped _you and made you feel worthless…I don't want that to put you off. You know? In a way, I'm kinda glad he did that. This'll only make you stronger."

"So are you saying I should murder all the people who…made my life a misery?"

"Ooh…_now _we're getting somewhere."

"But are you saying I should murder _Chase_? He's not responsible for breaking me…"

"I don't let _my _first love still make me go soft, though, do I, beautiful?"

"But you never murdered _her_! You even still sleep with Harley."

"Because she's prepared to work for what's right. Harley sees the vision."

"What if Chase saw the vision, too?"

"I'm leaving it to you…but you listen here, if you let men weaken you…like _this one _did…you _will _die. Starting from now."

"But why does that–?"

"Because, darling, do you think I wanna hire weaklings? I know you believe in chaos, don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Just think…if you introduce a little revenge…think what a rush you'll get, little one, hmm? And just think how easy this'll be for me to break the Commissioner's mind if the cops are too busy chasing you around." My eyes widened. "Do you understand, angel face?"

"I understand."

"But ya still look nervous."

"I…I'm still in shock from…you know…"

"Take this is a lesson. I know her highness has just experienced such a _terrible _little predicament, and I really to commend the outcome and how much you tried to prevent him…but does your failure make you feel like you wanna…you wanna fight even harder?"

I closed my eyes and listened to the whispers. A sudden eruption of cheers flushed through my brain.

"Why do I hear cheering, dad?" I asked.

"Just your head, ain't it?" he chuckled, starting to grin at me.

"No…no it's not…I'm not crazy, you know."

"Neither am I."

"Of course I wanna fight, I…I don't wanna go back to being weak," I said. "I can't get over what just happened to me, I…I fell so _pathetic _and…I don't want to go back to being…depressed. To grieving over Chase, although…"

"Hush, now," The Joker interrupted. "Look at what I've given ya. Use it wisely."

"If..if killing Chase is what you want me to do...I...I'm not going to do it."

"Well then, shall I make this easier for you?"

"I'm _not _going to kill him!"

"Tell me his address."

"You…no…I…I'm not going to kill him!"

"Did I say you _had _to? Did I say that's what I wanted you do do?"

"He's not responsible for making my life a misery. He never _did_. The Inghams have always hated me and wanted me away, always wanting me in _jail_…"

"Jane. Tell me Bradley's address."

"Bradley's? Why?"

"Don't question me."

"18 Chestnut Avenue, Gotham City."

The Joker maintained his sociopathic expression.

"Do you care about Bradley?" The Joker asked.

"No."

"And people you don't care about…more than likely you'd happily…_get rid_…of 'em?"

"More than likely, yeah."

"Chase's address, please, your highness."

"You're _not _going to hurt him!"

"Oh no, no, no…all I'm doing is going to help ya. I said last night I would, didn't I, missy?"

"What are you planning to do...with Chase?"

"Nothing. I'm not going to do anything."

"How exactly are you helping me? With what?"

"I'm gonna take this horrible little incident out of your mind…and re-build you. I can't have my little one all _broken _and messed up from a tiny incident, can I? So I'm going to help you, and don't worry, this is me we're talking about. I'm a man of my word, ya know. So, Chase's address."

"You have to promise me this doesn't involve murdering Chase."

"_I_…am a man of my _word_. Now, _tell me_!"

"5 Woodville Road, Gotham Town."

He lifted his hand and gently stroked my face, looking pleased.

"There's a good girl," he chuckled. "Tell me, Jane…do you like revenge?"

"Most definitely," I answered, finally managing to crack a smile.

The Joker gave me a crafty grin.

"You felt it when you got rid of that evil Larry Torres, hmm?" he inquired.

"Oh yes."

"And just now when you brutally shot Theo Hatchett?"

"It did…although I was _so_…angry…I was _embarrassed_…I felt so weak and stupid…"

"But he's dead now, thanks to your smart mind. How many people have you killed now?"

"Four."

"I know you'll do what's _right_."

"So are you not angry at me, still?"

"Not _angry_…more…disappointed. But we can _soon _fix that. That's why I'm helping you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have arrangements to make with Harley."

"Oh god."

"Feel free to slice this…this…_imbecile _up like a good girl."

"I…I will."

"It'll make you feel better."

The Joker left me in the pathway, my body still broken from being raped and slapped and treated like nothing but a whore. I stroked the blade Joker had given me and glanced down at Theo's rotting corpse, blood still spilling out everywhere. I even noticed the bullets all around his body. I kneeled down and looked at what I'd done.

I felt nothing. No sympathy for the horrid, vile piece of scum.

I rested on my knees and kept tracing the knife with my pointing finger.

The voices were now possessing me. The Joker's words had mixed in with my voices, and now they were telling me all sorts of sadistic advice.

I believed in revenge. Revenge is fair. Letting people you hate linger around and continue to beat you down and do nothing but make you feel miserable for their own sake…that's not fair.

"You know he's right, Theo," I whispered, tenderly stroking the knife. I couldn't get rid of the stupid inane grin off my face. "I do like revenge. You glad you did that to me now? Look at me. Broken, helpless, weak, everything you wanted me to feel, right? I _told _you The Joker would favour me." I sighed. "I got revenge on you. I got revenge on Torres. Who _else_ shall I kill that I hate? Hmm…maybe…maybe Joker _does _want me to kill Bradley. I couldn't do that. If I kill all the people I hate though, will that make me feel better?"

_It won't make you feel weak anymore_.

"Hmm…and do I take that risk of…becoming…mad?"

_You're not crazy. You're sane. _

Princess Jane wasn't insane, and I had created her to be a slave. The slave of Bob Moskins, a man who seduced and beat her from dawn until dusk. It was almost like Theo was Bob Moskins.

But _my_ Jane wasn't a slave. The girl in the comic may have been, but not the Clown Princess of Crime I was shaping up to be. She may have been spat at, beaten, threatened and treated like a slut because of her past, but that doesn't make her a slave.

I'm not crazy, you know. I'm really not.

I always liked to think of myself as the girl in charge. The girl who was no victim.

I was still shaking a bit, even at that moment when I began to laugh like a lunatic. I was still shaking because I was still enraged with myself. I was shaking because I was still shock from being attacked and raped by a man who I'd known a day. A man who took advantage.

Look, I may be a little bit of a mad girl who was out of control, but not girl should have to go through being raped so brutally like I was.

It had frightened me beyond belief.

The Joker was right. I should take this as a lesson.

I couldn't let men weaken and beat me down anymore.

And I wasn't prepared to.

* * *

_**PLEASE READ:**_

_**The reason why I made Shaylee/PJ get raped by one of Joker's thugs is because I thought...this is set in a realistic environment. If a seventeen year old girl freely joined a criminal gang lead by a psychopathic killer than what would happen to her? It wouldn't be all sweetness and light and the men wouldn't take to her kind-heartedly. I thought, this is something that could happen in real life. In that gang, the men would be made up of violent criminal thugs who would take women to their advantage, and would possibly rape a young girl who was trying to be badass who freely walked into their trap. HL's realistic version of the Joker would probably rape and kill women himself, so who's to say his gang wouldn't? And then I thought...how would The Joker react to that if Jane was raped and was genuinely shocked and shaken by the whole thing, because let's face it, any girl would be, even if she had a mental illness. I thought Joker would take this to his advantage and try to brake Jane, using this as an excuse for her to start being psychotic like...advising her to take revenge etc.**_

_**So that's why I wote it. I needed a way for PJ to lose her mind more. I know some people would think maybe I went a bit too far with putting this in, but the purpose is...The Joker's trying to break her and make her fall and he actually is secretly pleased that happened because it'll make her crave revenge, something he wants to happen. That's the reason I included it.**_

_**I know some people won't like it but I do hope by reading this part people will maybe appreciate it or even like the fact I wrote it, because I'm glad I wrote it now.**_

_**Thank you for reading :)**_


	18. Killing Is Making A Choice

_**NOTE: This contains a HIGH level of mental distress. ****If you don't like, don't read. ****The title of the chapter of course comes from the Joker quote in TDK.**_

_**Hope you like, and ****please ****leave a review if you can. Reviews help me through the night :P  
**_

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**Chapter 17 - Killing Is Making A Choice**

What happened to me next is indescribable.

I don't know what happened exactly, but all I remember is returning inside with the picture in my hand, which had miraculously survived on the floor during Theo's attack on me.

I recall sliding down the wall in James's kitchen, clutching onto the photo frame. My head, as usual, was in a battle. My conscious voices were telling me different things, and I didn't know what to believe. One was calling me Jane, the other calling me Shaylee. I faintly heard Harley and the other thugs outside the door rushing up and down the hallways, making my head even worse by slamming the doors and banging on the walls. I heard The Joker's menacing voice give them orders.

I heard him say Chase and Bradley's addresses to Harley.

Chase.

That name just kept repeating in my mind. It wouldn't stop.

_I'm not going to do anything_, The Joker said in my mind.

I buried the picture into my face, scrunching my eyes up.

They were saying…he's in trouble. He's going to get hurt. He'll more than likely die.

I screamed.

Then a flashing image of what had just happened to me. Theo's belittling words and vicious attack on me was flashing over and over again. My whimpers came back to haunt me.

The Devil himself was in my mind.

I screamed louder.

And then…it just kept happening. I just kept seeing the scene over and over. I screamed and cursed and threw the picture aside to make it vanish, ferociously pounding my fists on the wall in fury. I even felt in my body it was happening to me again, weakening me. It felt like it was crashing into a thousand pieces

I was on the floor broken, once again, my body violently vibrating and shaking in anger like I was being electrocuted.

And then…I woke up.

At first it was a blurry vision of a light. My head felt like it had been loaded in bullets. I was laying on my back, panting lightly, but the only word I could hear inside my head now was _Kill_.

Kill what? There was nothing around.

I sluggishly sat up and squinted to see before me, where a figure was sitting opposite me with their arms folded. I flinched wildly and fumbled backwards only to find my head being backed up against a metal headboard. It was then I realised I was in a bed, and I frantically looked ahead of me, to see the figure had now stood up and was coming up to the side of the bed. I scowled at them, still flicking my eyes continuously to try and make my vision clearer.

Rather disturbingly, I glanced around instantly for some sort of weapon of defence, like it was almost natural.

"Hey, calm down, hon," the person said. "You're makin' yourself look silly."

I looked back up at them again in wonder, and I finally saw that is was only Harley Quinn.

"Harley?" I said, shakily.

"Oh thank god, you can talk!" she laughed.

"Where am I?" I asked, like a little child.

I couldn't control my voice which appeared to be changing to sound so sound like cinnamon.

"In James's flat, still, silly," Harley chuckled.

I gazed around me, open-mouthed in wonder. A one-second flash of Theo with the gun popped in my brain again before disappearing, making me flinch.

"Harley…it won't leave," I said in that stupid voice again. I cleared my throat hoarsely but the voice failed to go back to my own seventeen-year-old Shaylee Napier voice. "I just…what happened?"

"Oh Jane, do I really have to explain this to do?" Harley asked. "You _know _what's happened to ya."

"No I don't! Where's The Joker?" I questioned, my eyes widening in an over-exaggerated way. I grasped Harley's arm. "Is he…is he _still_ killing people? People who deserve it…?"

"Of course, why wouldn't he–" Harley began. She then suddenly grinned at me. "Jesus, Pricey, it looks like you've gone a little mad, haven't ya? Why you talking in that silly voice?"

"I don't know!" I exclaimed, brightly. "Makes me sound like royalty, though, don't it?" I suddenly burst into infectious giggles. "I haven't gone mad, Harley, I'm fine! I just…I don't know what happened to me. What happened to me, Harley? I know I was attacked by an ugly sexist _pig _but now I…oh I thought about Chase and…oh Chase…" My laughter immediately stopped. "Is Chase okay?!" I cried.

"Calm yourself, PJ," Harley said, laughing just as hard as I was. "Chase is fine. I took care of him."

I don't know what had come over me, but now all of my expressions had become over the top like I was a curious toddler. My forehead wrinkled with worry.

"What do you mean?!" I cried.

"Don't you know Mister J wanted him to pay him a visit?"

My mouth gaped open with happiness.

"Chase is _here_!" I beamed.

"Yes, yes, he's here," Harley confirmed.

"So what happened to me?" I asked again, completely changing the subject.

"Well Mister J found you having a breakdown in the kitchen," Harley explained. "You were going mental, honey. He told Stan the Man to bring you up here to rest when you collapsed."

"I _collapsed_?!"

"Yeah, and even when you collapsed you were still jerkin' around and shakin' your head around all over the place. Your tiara fell off, too, but I put it back on when I was told to keep an eye on ya. Ivy's taught me a few things about healin' people after a mental attack, so, uh…I called her up, and she brought some medical things 'round here and showed me what to do. She was pretty worried about ya."

I paused as I remembered how The Joker was when Harley and I broke him free from Arkham. He'd just suffered from a major mental attack, and it appeared his head had been shaking frantically and he was still suffering even when he was recovering.

I gasped loudly.

"So…so I had a…_mental breakdown_?" I squeaked, innocently.

"Yep," Harley replied, like it was no big deal. "Not just a breakdown, but an _attack_. Shame this place ain't a hospital so we can't see if you're brain's suffered a lot or not."

"But…but I'm okay now, right?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say you're _okay_. I'd just say you've woken up." Harley started giggling quietly, making me crack up and chuckle heartily. "Right, PJ, Mister J's orders were when you had recovered that he wanted to see you."

"To _see _me?" I gasped. "Really? Why? What's going on, Harley? What's been happening?"

"Well, The Joker wanted us to capture this Chase and this Bradley, I don't know why, he just did. I went an' got Chase from the town, while Stan and the others went and got Bradley from the City."

"Did Bradley have a puppy in his flat?"

"I don't know, why?"

"One of them is _my _puppy!"

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah, an' I want him _back_!"

"Alright, keep your hair on!" she laughed.

"I barely _have_ hair!" I screamed into laughter. After myself and Harley calmed ourselves down, she say in front of me on the bed. "So where's Ivy now?" I asked.

"Ah, she was only here to help me, Mister J kicked her out," Harley giggled.

"Wow, he must really hate her," I said.

"Nah, not really, just think he thinks he has enough women helpin' him anyway."

"So…Harley?"

"Hmm?"

Bang! A gunshot went off in my head, and Harley noticed me jump and grab her wrist in alarm.

"Harley…" I said, shakily.

"What? What is it?" she asked.

I leaned in closer. "He was gonna _shoot_," I whispered, hoarsely. I nodded at her.

"Who?"

"Theo."

"What do you mean?"

"He…" I jumped again when I thought I saw his figure.

"Jane, what is _up _with ya?" Harley exclaimed.

"Nothing….nothing," I answered, my voice suddenly becoming sharper. "Nothing's wrong with me."

"Seems you've suffered pretty badly from this attack," Harley stated.

"Which one?" I asked, like a gameshow host. "Theo's attack or…the _one in my head_?"

"What do mean 'Theo's'?"

"Didn't your precious Mister J _tell _you what Theo _did to me_?!" I yelled.

"No, he didn't, calm down."

"Calm down? _Calm down_?" I cackled. "You think I should _calm down _after a thug like Theo _raped _me and nearly _killed _me?!"

"What?!"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah….I was lucky he didn't shoot me! Especially through my scarred shoulder! You know how I got that, right? And _oh_, fuck my _life_, he was _vicious_! But, I…I _killed _him!" My mind started laughing cruelly, so I laughed along with it when I thought about the achievement killing Theo gave me, even if I did cry like a wimp afterwards. "_I killed him_!" I laughed hysterically.

"Well, good" Harley said. "I always hated him anyway! What a little bastard!"

"I know…" I sighed in pleasure and closed my eyes. The scene still wouldn't stop replaying in my head, but this time it didn't infuriate me and start to make me shiver in rage. It played slowly and instead started showing myself shooting Theo and hearing the nonstop gunshots pound through my mind. "I wish…" I breathed. "I wish I had a knife at that moment. Would've been so much better than just have a gun." I gasped joyously at Harley. "Do _you _have one I could borrow right now?!"

"Whatcha need it for now, hon?" she asked.

"Joker said I should _always _be armed with one," I answered. "I'm just following orders!"

Right on cue, the door burst open, making Harley squeal in surprise, which just made me crack up. I glanced over to see The Joker had entered the room, naturally armed with a gun. I beamed at him.

"So I see you girls are having a lot of fun up here, hmm?" he chuckled.

"I was just telling Harley I wanted a knife!" I squealed.

It was almost like the adrenaline had just decided to invade and take over my body and make me act completely crazy, but never _felt _like I was acting crazy. I just thought I was excited, but I did feel confused. After all, I had been informed that Chase had been captured and brought to the house, but I didn't even know for sure that he was unharmed.

I don't know what had happened to me. I knew I had suffered from a mental attack, but why was I acting this way. I was trembling in excitement and my mind would not leave me alone.

I was acting like a madwoman, but I didn't think that. I knew I was in the clutches of my mind and if I tried to get out of it I would suffer another attack, and of course I didn't want to go through that hell again.

The Joker raised his eyebrows in great surprise at me, and then he looked at Harley, who gave him a cheeky wink. He smirked cunningly and began pacing around the bed.

"Harley, just what _have_ you intoxicated into the little princess?" he asked, playfully.

"Nothin', puddin'," she answered. "I just gave her the recovery drugs Ivy taught me to use, just like the ones we used to cure you."

"Oh, I see," Joker said, slowly. He then stared at me, predatorily. "Jane, my little one."

"Yeah?" I beamed.

"What's gotten you so excited, sweetheart?"

"Well, I was just thinking about when I shot down Theo before," I explained. "I just remember thinking how cool it was!"

"Even though you were screaming, huh?"

"Yeah, because I was angry! But I feel better about it now!" The Joker and Harley's eyes met, and she grinned at him, where he showcased his rotten teeth back to her in a smile. Harley rose to her feet and The Joker pulled her into an embrace, making her shriek and giggle playfully. "What are you two doing?" I asked, grinning myself. "I didn't think you were one for lovey-dovey stuff, Joker!"

"I'm not," The Joker said.

"He only does _this _when he's in a good mood," Harley said.

"I _only _came up here to see what _all _that laughter was for, girlies," Joker chuckled. "Harley, whatever you've drilled into Princess Jane it's certainly been effective, hasn't it?"

"No drugs made me happy!" I cried. "I'm just happy anyway!"

"Is that so?" The Joker asked, looking at me. I nodded vigorously. He looked back at Harley. "Well, Harley, looks like you did a good job recovering my daughter."

I let out a squeal because of what he'd referred to me as. I never thought I'd hear that again.

"Shh! Mister J, no one's supposed to know!" Harley whispered.

"What?" I gasped. "Why not?"

"Because, Jane, they'll try to take you off me, won't they?" The Joker snapped. "The cops will. And we _all _know what happened _last time _you were taken away from me."

"Hmm, yeah, I guess," I mumbled.

The Joker pushed Harley off him and she skipped over to another corner of the room. Joker beckoned me off the bed with his gloved finger, and I immediately hopped to my feet, smiling at him. The adrenaline was making me uncontrollable.

Maybe I really had lost my mind.

The Joker towered above me and was still grinning. I found it cute how we had the same smile.

"We have two visitors downstairs, angel," he said, gruffly.

"I have been told," I said, nodding and folding my arms.

"Now, look at me, look at me," he ordered. I looked right into his eyes. "Listen. Now. How's your head?"

"It's okay," I replied, brightly.

"Ah-ah…tell me the truth."

"It's…its going mad. Joker?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"Have you have had flashing images in your head before?" My voice became that strange watery voice again, with an innocent edge that made me sound much younger than I was. "Do you see torture happen to yourself by another person? It's like a flashback…in your mind and then…it won't stop. It won't stop…" I sparked in my head again. "It won't, it won't, I still see it! I still _see it_!"

The Joker grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in closer to because I'd gotten hysterical, I was grabbing onto my head. He forcefully pushed my head onto his chest and kept it firmly there. I gasped when I felt a piercing blade appear on the front of my neck, almost digging harshly into my throat. Joker kept it there so my head wouldn't move.

"Calm down now, PJ," he said, softly. "Calm down."

"I wish I didn't have to be reminded of it," I choked. "I don't _want_ that to come back to me. I'd much rather think about–"

"Listen to me," he grunted. "You think I haven't had to, uh…_experience _that as well, Jane?" He lifted my head up by pushing my chin up with the knife. "When I lost you, I went through something like that whilst I was _locked away_, just before I managed to escape. My father…my father came back to me." He scowled down at me as he started to trace the knife on my throat, but I didn't dare wriggle away. I allowed him to start kicking my adrenaline up higher, as I knew that was his intention. He was still glaring, not taking his eyes away from mine. "My mind flashed images of him lifting his knife to me like this…" he continued, sounding haunting. He licked his lips. "Images of him…_beating_ me with…his belt…me yelling because the buckle hit my eye…I heard his _laughter_…then a flash back to good old Larry having a good beating with me…because I decided to stay in to look after my precious baby girl. A flashback to school. Images…of…Diana…" He paused as he growled quietly and let out a little laugh. The mention of my mother just flared up even more frustration inside of me. "The thoughts of _Diana_! Drinking and drinking and _drinking_…"

"_No_!" I screamed.

"Hey! Shhh…it's okay." He sniggered quietly. "It's not so bad. Because do you know what makes it _better_?" His voice suddenly started quivering with excitement.

"Wh-What's that?" I asked, unable not to sound excited and intrigued.

"Our minds…they bring back the good _and _the bad, sweetheart," he said, flicking my tiara with his free hand. "As soon as they _pound _our minds with the bad things…they then make ya feel better with _all _the good things that happened as a result of that. The _pleasurable _things, I know exactly why you've been laughing just now…and I know you've been _filled _with, uh…with…"

"Pleasure," I said, monotone.

"Hmm. You see…as soon as _I _recovered from _my _first one, I instantly saw myself…_stabbing_…my father…"

"What?!"

"Ah-da-da…" He sharply lifted my chin with the knife again, but I didn't even gasp this time. His scars stretched out even more when his grin became wider. "It was…it was a marvellous moment…in my life…getting rid of that drunken _beater_. I grabbed his _own _knife from his bottom drawer an' used it on 'im one night when he comes home, more drunk than usual…I wasn't letting him be in my life _anymore_, not after my poor innocent mother passed away…so…I approached him when he was asleep…and I said to 'im the _very _thing he said to _me_ as a child…_'Why so serious, papa?' _I stick the blade under his ribs and _killed _him in his sleep…"

"So…so you murdered you father?" I said, beaming for some reason.

"I certainly _did_, little one," he snickered.

"Was he your first victim?" I asked, starting to grin just as widely as him.

"Indeed." He licked his lips, hungrily, like he was eager to taste that killing again. "I remember…after my mind flashed back with images of that, over and over and _over _again…I started to laugh and _boast _about it to myself. You don't think I didn't _hear _ya just now? Huh? I _heard _you tellin' Harley about Theo…and…" We both sniggered simultaneously. "Ooh-hoo-hoo…you _enjoyed _that, didn't ya?"

"Enjoy what? Killing him or telling Harley about it?"

"_Both_!"

"Well, yeah! Yeah, I did!"

The Joker laughed. "Aw, you _are _adorable princess, starting off so sweet and innocent and now…you're almost as good as _me_!"

"Nah…I'm not. I haven't _killed _as many people as _you_. I _never _will."

"Who's to say you're not _capable _though?"

"Possibly. Killing all the people I hate, huh, Joker?"

"What did I say to you, PJ? When out doing _business_, you call me boss, when we're _alone_, you can call me daddy, or _father_…because I _am _your father, aren't I?"

"Sorry, father."

"That's quite alright." He traced the knife further down to my neck, where he dug it in slowly, forcing me to feel the sharpness of the blade. "Now, your highness, let's calm this down, shall we?" he muttered. "Let's not think about what Theo and what _Larry _did…let's think _happy _thoughts now, hmm?"

"Okay," I replied, timidly.

"_Happy _thoughts," he snarled. I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to control me again. The Joker was right, as soon as something horrifying was shown that made me hysterical, like Theo's attack on me, my gunshots and my feeling that achievement immediately followed afterwards, making me feel so much better. Making me feel absolutely crazy. Genuinely. I know I keep insisting I'm not crazy, because I'm not, but it did make something disturbingly pleasurable start to rush through me, something I liked, but I knew in my right mind I shouldn't be feeling and shouldn't _want _to be feeling like that. I couldn't control myself. My mind was in control of me, like it had been for the majority of that past year, but I'd always managed to stop it and act normally. Now, I couldn't. I think this mental attack had seriously made the strange rush trigger and lock it on repeat, because it refused to stop, and The Joker putting a knife to my throat didn't help much. It only made it worse. "Something's happened to you, Princess Jane," The Joker stated, still running the blade on my throat. "You're not the same as you were this afternoon."

"Nothing's happened to me, father," I said, innocently.

"You've gone a little _crazy_, haven't you?" Joker chuckled.

"No…no, no, no…not really."

"Oh I think you _have_. Oh, this is just _too _precious." He chuckled nastily. "Now, be a good girl and behave for our guests downstairs. One of which happens to be your ex-boyfriend, little miss."

"Nah, he's _Shaylee's _ex-boyfriend, not _mine_."

"Ahh, now _that's _more like it," he growled. "Now, are you going to listen to me when we go down there to pay 'em a visit? Going to listen to what I want you to do? Huh?"

"Can I make a request first?" I asked.

"Only if you decide to listen to me," he said, sharply.

"Why wouldn't I?" I giggled.

"Hmm. What is this _request_, Princess Jane?"

"I want my puppy back," I said, purposely like a spoiled child.

"Your puppy, sweetheart?" Joker chuckled.

"My _puppy_! Ace! He's at Bradley's _flat_! A cocker spaniel with brown fur! He's easy to find because he's the smallest of the three Bradley has in his flat! I miss 'im, daddy."

Joker sighed heavily. "Oh I _suppose _there's not a problem with that an' you can have him back. I mean, _I _have dogs, well I _used _to, so I don't see why not." I squealed with joy, making him dig the knife more in warning. "But, darling…he'll be your responsibility."

"Oh I know that."

Joker looked over his shoulder. "Harley," he said.

"Yes, sir?" Harley said, perking her head up.

"See to it this…this _puppy _is brought here," Joker ordered.

"From the Chestnut Avenue flat, huh?" she asked.

"Yes, and take Stan and Mikey with ya. Go disguised. Trash the place all you want. Now go. On her royal highness's request." Harley immediately scooted out of the room and we heard her running down the stairs. The Joker still had the knife firmly under my chin, by now I could feel the blade scratching a cut underneath, but for some reason it didn't even begin to hurt. "Now, before we go down I have to make a request myself, Jane," Joker explained.

"Yes?" I grinned.

"You're still working for me, therefore you follow orders, correct?" he said in his clown voice. "Now, I'm not going to tell you to kill your precious _Chase_."

"What are we going to do?" I inquired.

"We're gonna, uh…have a little fun, Jane," he replied. "Give a little warning to the idiots of Gotham, but first, you must come down and listen to what I want you to do. Do you understand?"

"I understand," I replied, at once.

"There's a good little girl," he grunted.

He violently released me and swiftly made his way out of the room. I rubbed the bottom of my chin and hurriedly followed him out of the door. He led me down the stairs to the hallway, where we found James pacing up and down the room, sweating out his waterworks. He darted his head towards us as we came down the stairs, and idiotically came in front of The Joker's tracks.

"B-Boss, can I have a word?" he spluttered.

"No," The Joker simply answered, pushing his way past him. I followed closely behind.

"But you _have _to listen to me!" James cried.

"James, can't you see your boss is a little busy at the moment?" The Joker asked, calmly, as he haled his feet, but didn't turn around to face him.

"Those…those boys you've kidnapped…" James began.

"He hasn't _kidnapped _them," I snapped, turning around and immediately getting into his face. "He's merely _captured _them. Any idiot can know that!" I chuckled.

"You shut up," James growled.

"Excuse me?" I mocked.

"Do you know how to treat a woman, James?" Joker questioned, also turning around to face him. James immediately stepped backwards. "That's no way to speak to Jane."

"I don't care! I just–"

"Oh, you don't care, do you?" The Joker taunted. "Then why are you _here_, helping Gotham's nightmare that is me? Why don't you become a mob dealer apprentice if you're not interested?"

"Joker, that's my _son _in there!" James cried.

"Your son?" Joker asked, impatiently.

"My son, Chase…you…you've took him hostage! Why?" James demanded.

"_I _was the one who gave the boss your son's address, sweetie. So don't blame it _all _on Joker!" I cut in.

"You…" James snarled. "You…you _tell me _how you know my son!"

"Oh _how _did I not realise it after all this time?" The Joker chuckled.

"What?" James stammered.

"Your son is Chase Delancey…_your _last name is Delancey, too," Joker murmured. "At first I thought it was a coincidence, but…you're his father, are you?"

"Yes I am, and I want you to let him go!" James shouted.

"Hmm…he's got balls after all, hasn't he, Princess Jane?" The Joker sniggered. That comment made me crack up with him. "I didn't even know he _had _a son."

"Yeah, the son he's _never _bothered with, never cared about!" I laughed.

"How would _you _know anything about Chase?" James asked, trying to sound threatening.

"I'll tell you how she knows, Delancey," Joker interrupted. "Princess Jane once knew your son, didn't you, Janey baby?"

"I did," I giggled. "Such a handsome boy." The ongoing adrenaline was still making my voice sound strange like a little child's. I was talking like I was a soppy commentator of a fairy story. "We went to school together when he and his mother, your ex-wife who you used to beat up moved to Gotham Town. I was _love _at first sight."

"You're not _serious_?!" James exclaimed.

"I'm deadly serious," I said, brightly.

"Why so serious, Jane?" The Joker asked. We both shared a laugh as he looked back to James. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we have business to attend to."

"Please…please don't hurt my son…" James begged, actually having the nerve to cling onto The Joker's arm. "Don't do anything to him, _please_…"

The Joker flinched his away before brutally punching James in the face. He groaned and fell to the floor, where Joker took a gun from his pocket, and dug into James's chest, as he knelt down.

"_I _am not going to touch 'im," Joker whispered. "Your son will be fine as long as he's under _my _watch."

"T-Thank you…" James mumbled. "Just…make sure he's safe."

"Ah, thoughts of your kid make go all soft, hmm?" Joker grunted.

"The kid he never bothered to see," I added.

"He never _wanted _to see me!" James snapped at me.

"I'm not surprised, looking at you, you ugly freak!" I squealed with laughter.

"What's _happened _to her?" James asked The Joker, nervously.

"She's wised up," Joker snorted. "Now, if I hear a peep from you all night, this'll be the last night you live, you understand, Delancey?" James nodded weakly. "Now go and guard the money in your basement and make it fast."

He rose up and James staggered away across the hall, through the door to the basement. The Joker was now carrying a gun in one hand, and a knife in the other, and without warning, he hit the gun into my palm and raised his eyebrow, expectantly at me. I nodded, and my head laughed, so I couldn't help but giggle. The rush had gotten so wonderful by now that I was already witnessing the pixel flames only I could see.

The Joker and I ventured into James's living room, where I gasped quietly at what I saw. Chase and Bradley were tied up on two different chairs, but neither of them gagged. They both looked horrified when we entered, Chase more so than Bradley. Bradley looked more disgusted at The Joker, where I could tell immediately by Chase's expression he knew who I was. My clown makeup was barely on anymore and if it was it was smudged everywhere so my identity was poorly hidden. Bradley had a gun to his head by one of the thugs I didn't know because he was masked, and Chase was being pulled backwards by his black floppy hair by Stan. Harley was sat in between the chairs, crossed-legged. She beamed excitedly as Joker entered the room.

"Hey, Mister J!" she shrieked. Joker sauntered towards her. "Ya just in time to–!"

Even I flinched when Joker suddenly kicked Harley in the stomach, making her roll about on her back in pain. Harley's pathetic little whimper made me start to giggle, and I laughed harder when The Joker started laughing himself.

"Harley, you're _forgetting _something!" he chimed.

"A-Am I?" she whined.

"What did I specifically order you to do a minute ago, woman?" he asked, sharply.

"T-To go and get a puppy," she answered.

"Then why aren't you dim-witted gorillas doing it then?!" he shouted, his mood changing completely.

"B-But…but I thought…" Harley stammered.

"You thought what?!" Joker snarled.

"You said to go with Mikey an' Stan an' they're busy holding these guys hostage."

"Well now I'm here, hop _to it_! Wait outside the door, I'm coming with you."

"Why?"

"Because I am, pretty one, okay?" he said, in a mocking tone. "Now get up!" Harley instantly stumbled to her feet and rushed out. Joker pointed his knife at Stan and presumably Mikey. "You two, get out of my sight!" he roared.

"An' make sure the place is _trashed_!" I called after them.

What had come over me that was making me so vile? I couldn't help myself. Besides, better than being all miserable about it, isn't it?

Once they had all rushed out of the door, The Joker angrily slammed it shut with his foot.

"Can't even _shut _the _door _behind 'em," he groaned. He glanced at me and smiled, craftily. I knew very well he had something on his mind. He faced the two cousins, and as usual started pacing around each of them, while I remained watching with my arms folded, grinning eagerly. "Now, gentlemen," he began, licking his lips. "I know this is all very…uh, _unexpected _but I have a little problem on my hands, you see. You see this girl, right here? This is Princess Jane Price. She believes in _my _vision. If you've been good little boys an' watched the news, you'll know that I had a vision for Gotham to be rid of Batman and to get crime back on track in this City. It worked, to a degree. Now, do you two believe Batman _deserves_ his place in Gotham right now? Because according to a little coverage on the news just now, apparently he admitted to breaking his precious little rule and killing. Now, you'll understand, this is a _disaster _for the people because now they _all _know he's not what he appears to be. Harvey Dent was seen as a hero, and _he_ fell. So who's to say Batman will eventually see the madness this City has been plummeted into?"

"If you believe the citizens in this City are all going to turn against each other because of what you've done you're _wrong_!" Bradley shouted.

"Ah, but that's where _you're_ wrong, my friend," Joker said.

"The people are fighting _against_ you!" Bradley argued.

"Maybe so, but I have a young girl here who believes in _my _vision."

"Because you've probably beaten her and brainwashed her into believing in your sick, twisted ideologies!"

"And what have _you _been, uh…_told _from a young age, Mr. Ingham? Because according to my Jane here, you come from the middle class, who _always _believe that they are far more superior to someone who had to grow up in the slums."

"That's not true at all!"

"Oh, but it is. Jane, remind me of what his _parents_ made of criminals."

"How…how do you know about my _parents_?!" Bradley demanded. "What have you _done_ with them?!"

"Quiet!" Joker snapped, pointing his gun at him. "If you will, Princess Jane."

"All sorts of things," I grumbled, in disgust. "Said they're all scumbags. Made it out like they are extremely dim-witted individuals who are worth nothing!"

"Because all you do is steal the money _we earn _and go out and get arrested day in and day out, making people's lives a misery and seem to think it's okay!"

Oh, Bradley. You are an idiot.

The Joker then came up behind me. I gasped when he pulled me into a hug again, like he had done before, once against digging the knife into my throat.

"It appears that we have an ignorant little _boy _here, princess," he growled into my face. "Talk to Chase. Ask him what he thinks. _Now_."

"Chase, do you think the same thing?" I interrogated Chase, immediately.

"I…I don't know…" Chase whimpered.

"That's not an answer," I said. "Chasey, trust me, if you want to have your life spared, you tell me the truth now!"

"Well…n-not _all _criminals are good for nothing human beings," Chase stammered. "Some…some of them don't have a choice, but…but Bradley has a point…"

"Alright, enough," Joker snapped. He then hissed quietly into my face, "Remember what I said to you before. Happy thoughts."

I nodded.

"Chase, Bradley…do you even know who I _really_ am?" I asked.

"Of course I know who you _really _are." Chase's voice was cracking awfully, and his face was flushing bright red.

"Please don't say who I think it is," Bradley quivered.

"If you know who I am, sweetie, then you'll know I'm not a girl to come across," I giggled. "J?"

"Yes, beautiful?"

"What do you want me to do? I trust you not to hurt Chase."

"Oh no, no, no…" he muttered, coming out of the hug but racing the knife on my throat as he did. "Like I've said, _I'm _not going to do anything." My eyes widened in realisation. "Listen to me, PJ." He came before me. "I know you've had a…uh _tough _day…but take that to your advantage, huh? They always say what doesn't kill you makes you _stronger_. I believe these two _sorry _individuals behind me believe Batman's made Gotham a better place. They're too _caught up _in the belief of so-called _goodness _in this City they're blinded to the truth. What's the truth, Princess Jane?"

"That all the people in this City are judgemental idiots who fail to see _everyone's _inner madness."

The Joker gave a look that he was astonished by my answer, but also very pleased. I smiled pleasantly at him.

"What did you tell me you liked, Jane?" he questioned.

"I like revenge," I answered, glowingly.

"And what's the sensible way to live in this world?"

"To fight for what you believe in."

"But how do _we_ like to do things, hmm?"

"I…uh…"

"What I do…is it harsh?"

"Oh no!"

"What _is _it, then?" Joker asked, with a sharper edge.

"You do things fairly," I replied, relieved I had thought of the answer.

"So tonight you're going to do things fairly," he explained. "Interrogate these two boys. Two boys I _know _have given you a hard time. Chase beat you up, didn't he? And Bradley has, uh…_belittled _you, called you every bad name, and even tried to drag the love of your life _away _from you, didn't he? _Threatened _to take him away from you. Thinks he has the _right_. That made you _mad_…didn't it? Arguably, they _made _you this way, hmm?"

"Yes."

"Not that you're…_ashamed _if being this way."

"No I'm not. I'm just doing my job. They drove me crazy."

"And now you can't control that." He laughed loudly. "So, here's my orders to you, PJ. I'm going to get your puppy back, and when I return, I expect one these boys, who are nothing but little hypocrites who both _hurt_ and _broke _and _downgraded _my once tough little girl…"

"Shaylee?" Bradley whispered.

"Quiet, snobby!" I commanded, pointing the gun at him.

The Joker sniggered cruelly. "Why not take revenge, sweetheart? If one of these boys isn't _dead_ by the time I return, then I kill _you_." Those words made my heart beat with fear for the first time since I burst into insanity. I remained smiling, but inside I felt a ripping pain. "I need to know I have a little obedient girl who's prepared to fight injustice. Who _loves _anarchy...chaos. Are we clear, little one?" he asked, smirking.

"Yes, that's clear."

"An' the one that's _spared_, well there's always room for a little expansion, as I say, but uh…these boys behind me broke my little one and I can't have _weakling _in my gang, can I? This town, it deserves a tough female to show 'em their true colours…and why not be that girl? You always said you wanted to kill the people you hate."

"I don't hate _Chase_," I said.

"Ah-ah-ah…you know this is your chance? Your chance to show you have _everything _to show your strength and show you believe in my vision, and somethin' I said to old Batsy, little one…killing…is making a _choice_. If you wanna live you're gonna have to _play along_. And be smart about it. Use that brain of yours…" He smirked wider. "Brain of _mine_. Now, I'm going to have to leave. And I _won't _be long."

"Yes, sir," I said, determinedly.

The Joker bolted his head around to the two cousins.

"It won't be wise for you two to try and outwit this one," he warned, speaking in dad's angry voice. "She's dangerous. You believe me. She'll get a lot outta you two. An' you'll be surprised what's going to happen next. Your _dad_, Chase, is coming with me so he may not have to experience hearing his own son die. Wouldn't that just be tragic? Hmm. It's been a pleasure, gentlemen." He turned back to me and grinned. "Your highness," he said, politely bowing his head. "Happy thoughts."

And with that, The Joker left the room, slamming the door hard behind him, leaving me with a task to fulfil.

I thought the choice of who I was going to shoot was obvious.

As mad as I had been driven, my heart still managed to fight against my insane mind, still holding me back to shoot Chase.

Chase was my love. I still had love inside me. Didn't I?

"Well, Shaylee," Bradley said, his voice starting to tremble. "You may as well go ahead. Go ob."

I smiled at him, the adrenaline being on boiling point and making me act like the sadistic killer I was becoming. I patted my hand on my chest in exaggeration.

"Oh, so you _do _know it's me, oh how sweet!" I squealed.

"It's so obvious now," Bradley said.

"Shaylee?" Chase cut in.

"Yes, darling?" I said, endearingly.

"W-Why…why are you doing this?" he asked, shaking his head. I saw a tear run down his face.

"Chase, don't cry," I said, quietly.

"How do you _expect _him to be, Shaylee?!" Bradley yelled.

"My name…is Jane," I corrected. "Princess Jane Price. The Clown Princess of Crime. Blowing Things To My Kingdom Come!"

I cackled, annoyingly. Bradley shook his head at me.

"You…you have actually lost it, haven't you?" he said. "You've actually been driven insane, I don't know…_how _you have, but…but _what _has made you this way?!"

"A lot of things, Bradley," I replied. "A _lot _if things…"

"Don't say it's _our _fault you've gone mad!" he snapped.

"Did I say it was?" I inquired, still smiling creepily. "I'm not _mad_, Bradley."

"You've been _brainwashed_, Shaylee, can't you see that?!" he cried.

A burst of anger shot through me like a firecracker, and the gun immediately was pointed towards him. My demonic side had decided to take over all of a sudden, because inside my head I felt Lucifer controlling me.

"Do you want to upset me, Bradley?" I interrogated. "Because if I were you, I _wouldn't_." He scowled at me, but managed to stay quiet. I heard a quiet whimper come from the other side, and glanced over to see Chase was now sobbing his little heart out. I walked over to him, pushing his head into my head and stroking his think black locks, soothingly. "Chase, I've forgotten how beautiful you are," I whispered. "Listen to me." I looked back over to Bradley. "Am I mad now, _huh_?" I spluttered into purposely irritating giggles.

"Just because you're hugging him doesn't make you sane," he murmured.

"Oh because you would know _all about _insanity, wouldn't you, Bradley?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly! You know _nothing_." I released Chase and approached him again, suddenly flaring with rage. "Look at me, you arrogant asshole," I snarled. "_Look at me_. I know I may have gone a _little _crazy but _not a lot_! And…and I _haven't _been brainwashed."

"You have no feelings whatsoever!" Bradley retorted. "Even when you went out of control after you and lover boy broke up you at least still had _feelings_! You still had love. I saw you cry every day and saw how hurt you were. Now…you have _nothing_."

"You think because I've had a little makeover and changed my name that means I don't feel _love _anymore? Oh Bradley…I begged and begged The Joker before not to harm Chase…but now…"

"Shaylee, please…you…you _are _better than this…"

"Better than _what_?"

"Being a murderer!"

I paused as I allowed my mind to shout instructions at me.

"You…don't know…what it's like, to have a corrupted mind," I growled, although my voice still seemed to have an excited adrenaline-filled tone to it. "To have…been _beaten _and _hated_…_bullied _and made _fun of _your whole life, while having to deal with voices in your head and…seeing…flames…" I glanced around to witness the flames were flicking brightly in front of me. It was delicious. "My mother neglected me when I turned three years old and turned into a _drinker _and my father had to look after me. Still, I had to go through my mother being _murdered _and my father _nearly_ being taken away from me. He's the only one who's kept me _strong _all these years! The only one who gave a damn about me. If it weren't for him, I would have been so _weak _and _helpless_…probably thriving off alcohol or drugs and rotting in an orphanage. But no. He taught me to be strong and defend myself because he knew no differently. He _had _to teach me all the hard lessons in life because he's had to _fight _them. Then Chase came into my life and he saw past all that. I thought there was hope yet. He saw past the schizoid Shaylee Napier–"

"Schizoid?!" Bradley spluttered.

"Yes, Bradley, poor little helpless schizophrenic Shaylee Napier…she was put through _hell_. It's bad enough being put through that as a young girl, who, by my own confession, is _still _a little bit of a handful. You've been okay, Bradley. You've had _both _your parents around and you've been groomed and loved your whole life. But no, I wouldn't say it's just been _you_ _two_ and being separated from my father that's made my mind go a bit strange. I love it, though. I _love _my brain. It's smart. I'm not stupid, you know. I'm going to do what's right. All my life I've had to see my father fight the world that hated him…so what's only a better thing to do than to fight _with him_? Fight for _his _lifestyle, because if he _hadn't _stolen and done crime to provide for me, I'd have been starving, _broken_…I'd have had _nothing_!"

"That doesn't give you an excuse to turn into a violent supporter of a psychopath!"

"When will you learn to _shut up_?! All my life I've had to listen to you moan and bitch about how sick criminal lifestyle is, so now _I'm _going to say what _I _think, okay?!" I loaded the gun, startling Bradley. I laughed quietly at this sight. "What's the matter, Bradley? I always thought you were so tough." I laughed louder. "_Now _you're showing your true colours! So _weak_!"

"S-Shaylee…don't shoot him…please…" Chase pleaded.

"Chase, didn't you hear what The Joker said?" I asked. "If one of you isn't _dead _by the time he gets back he'll _kill _me!"

"But Shaylee…please…don't shoot Bradley," Chase trembled. "He doesn't deserve to be shot. In no way, please…I can't…I can't let you do this…"

I turned my head around and looked curiously at him.

"What are you saying, Chase?" I questioned. "That _you _deserve to be shot instead?"

"Shaylee–"

"_Jane_."

"Jane…the reason you've gone through a breakdown is _my _fault," Chase said. I thought I could hear his heart breaking inside of him. "Even I know that."

"What do you mean, Chase?"

The more I interrogated them, the quicker ideas came into my head. Ways to make this situation fairer, because revenge is fair. A smirk appeared on my pale face. I was thinking of better reasons now to shoot Bradley instead of Chase, because…I didn't _want _Chase to die.

"It was _my _fault you went through a breakdown…" Chase continued. "I broke up with you because I was an _idiot _and thought I couldn't help you anymore. You became depressed which worsened your schizophrenia and made you go off the rails and that's _my _fault, Shay, so…please…don't shoot Bradley. He has nothing to do with making you–"

"You know what?" I said. "You're right. And the way you _beat me up _didn't help, did it?"

"You _know _I did that for self-defence because _you _were violent to _me_!" Chase cried.

"And why did I beat you up, Chasey boy?" I giggled. "Because you touched marijuana which I _told _you wouldn't make me happy!"

"I know and I was an idiot!" he protested. "And yet I was even _more _of an idiot by raising your hopes and still sleeping with you…"

"_What_?" Bradley spluttered.

"Shut up, Bradley," I growled.

"No! Hang on, you were still sleeping with Chase when you broke up? When _we _started sleeping together?!"

"What?" Chase whimpered.

"Oh Bradley, shut up, I _was _single!" I yelled. "Anyway _shut up_! This isn't about that! My _life _is on the line here…as much as yours, and do you think I wanna die? No. I want to continue showing this City what I _really _think of it!" I couldn't help but laugh at all the delicious deeds I had in my mind. It definitely shut the two of them up, as well. I sighed after I'd cooled myself down. I came before both of them, lowering my gun beside me. They stared at me, anxiously, both of them creased with worry, almost waiting for their lives to end. "Chase, thinking about what you've said, I've come up with a solution," I said, craftily, a lightbulb flickering above my tiara. "You _did _break my heart and you _did _start off my second dose of depression…I can _never _forgive that." His lip was trembling, as he looked at me with the most beautiful his eyes had ever looked. Chase's green gems were sparkling because of the wetness streaming from his eyes. "Killing…is making a choice. Someone _killed _to choose my mother. _I _had to go through losing her and avenging her to regain my strength. Realising it now, Chase, all that's punished _you _is not seeing your father…even though you always told me you didn't…care…about him." I took a deep breath. "Just think about what it's been like having to go through _all _the meany-weeny things _I've _had to go through. Losing my mother, losing _you_, Chase…and then…I had…to listen…to my own father say goodbye to me on the _phone _just before he _jumped off _the building…"

"He…he survived, though," Chase cut in, softly.

"I _know he did_!" I screamed, suddenly a bolt catapulting me out of control. "But I still had to _listen to him…bawling _on the phone…saying how he'd _lost _me…telling me to stay strong…and you know something?" My voice softened. "That was the only time, my whole life, I heard him say 'I love you.' So it's okay for you to criticise my father and me and how we lived our lives when I had to go through something as _horrible _as _that_!" I then frantically poked at my scarred shoulder. "And _this_…this is constantly with me to remind me of that day! And then…oh…it gets _worse_." I sighed as I foolishly thought back to what I had been put through that day. "Imagine…being….dragged into a pathway…_spat _in the face by a piece of scum…beaten…weakened…being told you're nothing but a _slut_…a man's possession…and then…"

I lingered off when my head violently jerked as the image bulleted my mind once more. I screamed loudly and put my hands on my head.

"Shaylee!" Chase cried, his voice dripping with pain. "Shaylee, _no_! Stay with me!"

"Chase, stop it!" Bradley hissed.

I bolted the gun in Bradley's direction, keeping it firmly there. I panted hard as I closed my eyes, desperately trying to exterminate the haunting scene.

"Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, _please_…" I murmured. I opened my eyes again and glared ay Bradley. "And then I'm taken as that man's possession," I continued. "He threatens to kill me and then…_takes me_…_rapes _me with no hesitation, but luckily Bradley, I managed to kill 'im, in the end." I giggled, spitefully. "You see, the point is…my entire life I've been nothing but punished. I didn't _ask _to be born schizophrenic…but all it's done is _punish _me for _nothing_. I've been through hell, but of course…" I shrugged. "Nobody cares. Because I'm a criminal and from a scummy background, everyone judges. No one's prepared to listen to me." Grinning deviously, I approached Chase, who still looked so beautifully innocent I couldn't help but feel my heart beat with the last little bit of love I think I could manage to pump out. I lifted his chin with my free hand and stroked his face, taking my time to sink in just how beautiful he truly was. "I'm going to show you what it's like to be punished," I whispered.

"What…what are you talking about?" Chase wept.

"I had to listen to my father go mad…listen to him suffer…." I continued. "Listen to him say goodbye. Tell me, how would you feel watching a member of your own family die?"

Bradley gasped. Chase's eyes widened.

"No…Shaylee…no…please, don't…don't do this," he sobbed, more tears pouring out of his green eyes.

"I can't let you die…" I whispered, my heart slightly taking over my insane mind for a few moments. Shaylee came back again. I held Chase close and cradled him in my arms. "Chase, I…I'm sorry…" I said, softly. "I just can't kill you. I…I can't. I don't have it in me…I have to take the fact I _can't_ kill you, now, before that day comes where I _will_ kill you and think nothing of it. Because that day _is _coming, my love…as long as my mind continues to attack me…corrupt me…it's going to come. But you must understand, I have a duty. I have to follow orders. I have to be sadistic and fight for what _I _believe in, because it's what's _fair_." We came out of the hug, but I remained my eyes absorbed in his. "What I believe in, is revenge. Fairness. It's only fair I take my revenge on you for breaking me…and…if I put you through…what _I_ had to go through. Listening to a family member say goodbye, listening to them say 'I love you' and then leaving you all alone in the darkness."

"But…but it's not the same!" Chase retorted, shakily. "Your dad came back. He never killed himself…you were right."

"No. No, that's where you're wrong," I corrected. "He didn't come back. Not properly." I then forcefully lifted Chase's chin, and moved it to look at Bradley, who had the nerve to try and look away. "Look at your cousin!" I ordered, lifting the gun at him and loading it, ready to shoot. I put my mouth inches away from my ex's ear. "Say goodbye," I commanded, hoarsely.

"B-Bradley…" Chase sobbed. "Bradley, I…I'm so sorry…"

"Chase, don't be sorry," Bradley said, tears now beginning to fall down his own cheeks. It didn't affect me in the slightest, however. "It's not…your fault."

"I'm sorry for the times our moms never got on…I…I don't know what to say…"

"Chase, just…just don't say anything…it won't help. You don't deserve this. _Neither _of us do."

"S-Shaylee…please…please don't make me–"

"Shh!" I hissed. "Talk."

"Chase, it's okay…" Bradley said, softly. "I'm doing this for you, you're _family_…and I love you."

"Bradley, I _can't_…I…I…you _can't_…"

"Chase, just…please…"

"You're the only thing I may have left!"

"Wh-What…?"

"I don't have my dad now I know he's working for The Joker…I might not see my mom again after this, I…" He caught a strangled breath and half-whimpered before continuing. "She's very ill…and I don't know where she is…"

Bradley glanced up at me.

"You're sick…" he snarled. "_You're sick_!"

"I'm doing what's _fair_," I answered.

"What would be _fairer_ is you sacrificed _yourself _for the one you loved!"

"The Joker would kill him right after me anyway," I said, truthfully. "It makes no difference. Now. Say goodbye."

"S-Shaylee, please…"

"It's_ Jane_! Now say it! Like _my dad _said it!" I commanded.

"G-Goodbye, Bradley…" Chase whimpered. I felt the humiliation as his body shuddered in fear. "I love you."

"Chase, you're gonna be alright…okay?" Bradley wept.

Chase nodded weakly.

I stood up, and saw my opportunity. With my high heel, I kicked Bradley, tied up on his chair and he dropped to the floor, along with the chair, groaning in pain as he did. I knelt down and put the gun to his head, scowling down at my victim, who was breathing heavily and scrunching his eyes shut, preparing for the shot. I quickly looked back up at Chase, who was looking away, sobbing hysterically.

My mind was yelling, the voices instructing me over one another. The flames that Lucifer had conjured up for me were still flaming bright and warming up my skin, preparing me further. They were firing the adrenaline through me like a wave on a stormy night, creating pleasure. I was about to achieve revenge, but at the same time, I was swarming up my anger and my hellish side was bursting through me.

"Chase, look at him!" I commanded, gruffly. "Do it now! I want you to _look at him _when I kill him!"

Chase hesitantly moved his head and looked towards Bradley on the floor. I took in the two boys crying as I then put pressure on the trigger.

"_No_!" Chase suddenly cried out. "_Please_!"

"Too late," I said, plainly. "Isn't it?" I asked the voices.

_Kill, kill, kill…_they sneered.

I kicked Bradley brutally hard in the side of the head several times, before spitting down on him. I didn't care how vile I was being, my mind was going crazy. I was only playing along. The mental attack I'd had had driven me to be so revolting and sadistic that I couldn't stop myself.

I violently plummeted my gun at Bradley and kicked him hard some more, making Chase watch as I did it.

Until it got to the point I thought Bradley and Chase would hear the voices coming out of my head they were screaming _kill _so loud.

I screamed with adrenaline as I pushed the gun into Bradley's head, pulled the trigger and…

Bang!

Bradley was dead.

I loosened my grip on the gun and stood up, where I remained very still. I closed my eyes and let my flames heat up my skin along with the adrenaline. When I opened my eyes, I saw Chase crying harder than I'd even seen him cry before. Red was now spilling all over the carpet, oozing out of Bradley. I jumped a little when a gunshot fired in my schizoid brain, and then myself continuously shooting Theo came back, the glorious feeling of revenge and achievement filling up every core of my bones. It made me smile in disturbing pleasure.

"Shaylee…" Chase whispered, his voice shaking on the rector scale. I stared at him, The Joker's frightening presence I felt was coming out of me. "Shaylee…_why_?" he breathed. "I can't believe you would do this to me…after everything we've been through. Why would you…?"

"You know why," I replied. "To save your life. To save _my _life. I did it fairly. I said to you the reason I shot him and not you, even though you've put me through a lot more than he ever did. In fact, he _helped _me and took care of me…but I had orders to follow. I had to punish you." I walked closer up to him, over-gesturing my hands as I continued. "Now you know…how it feels to have a person you care about…your family…be dangled in front of you and then…_snatched _away before your eyes." By now I was up close to his face and investing myself within his eyes. "And now…we can be together," I whispered.

I leaned in for a kiss and put my lips against his, but he flinched away, aggressively.

"No," he snapped, glaring at me. "Never."

"Aw," I said, pretending to be hurt. "I thought you might say that. When The Joker returns, you're going to be forced into his gang, Chase. I'm afraid you won't have a choice."

"He…he's not going to kill me?" he asked.

"No, he said he wouldn't," I insisted.

"But…but aren't you forgetting something?" Chase started shivering on his chair.

"What, Chase?" I asked.

"When…when I met him…and I mean when I met _Jack_…some time ago, he said to me, 'If you break her, physically or emotionally, if you break her heart, then I will kill you. I won't let her be broken by some boy.' Don't you _remember_?"

"Oh Chase that was a long time ago!" I chuckled.

"But you think he won't keep his word? I have a feeling he _will _Shaylee–"

"Chase that's _not _my name anymore!" I growled.

"_Jane_…sorry…but…come on, you have to believe me when I say that!" he cried.

"Chase…don't worry about it now," I said, calmly. I started twiddling with the gun in my hand out of my inability to remain motionless. "He's not stupid. He wouldn't make me mad like that. It could be dangerous, you know. If _you _were killed, all _hell _would be let loose, more than it has ever been. The Joker's not that stupid. Believe you me."

"But Jane, what about my mom?"

"What about her?"

"I…I'm so worried about her…"

"She's safe, isn't she?"

"They took her…to a different hospital but I haven't seen her since…you know…a few days ago…what's going to happen when she finds out what's happened to me? To her _nephew_. If I…if I work for The Joker my whole family…well…"

"Listen to me, Chasey…baby…you're gonna be fine. You'll be safe. Your dad's gonna make sure you won't be killed, won't he?" I sighed. "Where _are _they? They should be back by now…"

"What's The Joker going to do?" Chase asked, looking petrified.

"Nothing to _you_…god knows what he's going to do to me…"

We then both weirdly looked at Bradley at the same time. I heard Chase whine loudly, and he flopped his head down at his lap, making his fringe droop down over his face, completely covering.

"Just…just promise me something…" he said, lightly.

"Yes, Chase?" I asked, brightly.

He looked up and shook his head, pleadingly.

"Just…please…I _beg _you…you can't hurt anymore of my family," he requested, quivering all over. "Don't hurt my mom, you don't go _anywhere near_ her…or my aunt and uncle…I'll do anything you want as long as you don't hurt them. _Please_, Shaylee…_Jane_…please promise me that."

"Well…I guess that's a fair enough request," I sighed. "You'll have to say that to The Joker as well, though."

"Will…will he accept that?"

"He'll do anything…to get more thugs. So I say he would accept. And Chase…look at me. _I'll _make sure of it, baby." I winked at him reassuringly.

"Tha…Thank you, Jane," Chase whispered.

"It's okay…" I answered. I looked back down at Bradley's dead body. "But _he_…he's gone. And you accept why, don't you, Chase?" He nodded, slowly. "Is your heart broken Chase?"

"What do _you _think?" he hissed.

"Well now you know how _I _felt when you gave up on seeing past the crazy schizoid Shaylee and just decided to leave."

Chase sniffed hard and scowled at me.

"I can't believe you," he said, for the thousandth time. "You make everything about _you_, don't you? You're so…so _selfish_!"

"Selfish, am I?" I enquired. "So selfish I'm fighting everything for _The Joker_, my _father's _justice?!"

"You said you're going to kill the people _you _hate! That's selfish!"

"Oh shut up. Look, Chase, you should be grateful I spared your life when I could have easily decided not to. Proves in my _blackened _heart I still care about you, doesn't it?"

"I…I guess so…"

We looked at each other for a very long time, and for one tiny moment Shaylee came out of me again, and the connection Chase and I once had shone through in a moment full of darkness. It was just silent, but the silence said a lot.

My head was triggered with its insanity almost instantly when we both heard the door slam shut. I heard a little yapping coming from the hallway, and muttering from Harley and the others.

"_Ace_!" I squealed, jumping up and down.

My mentally attacked self had returned, acting like a little child on Christmas Day again, like I did when I first recovered. The re-connection with Chase disappeared completely. It don't know what it was but I was just acting really strange and like I keep telling you, I couldn't stop. It was impossible to control my mind. It was because hearing The Joker, my father's arrival made me excited like I was about six years old, and now when excitement decided to be my emotion, it was always 100% more insane.

Harley entered the room by herself, pulling Ace the Second in with her by a leash. He was yapping unhappily.

"Here's ya mutt," Harley sighed. She then noticed the deceased Bradley and gasped in adrenaline. "Oh my god, Jane…you _did _it!"

I looked over my shoulder.

"Yeah…of course I did, Harley," I giggled.

"To be honest I thought you were done for," she said. "Ya know, after what happened today, I thought you'd been scarred for life and wouldn't gave the _guts _to do anything."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I said. Ace the Second barked and was now wagging his tail, immediately knowing it was me. His tongue flopped out happily. "Hey, _boy_!" I shrieked. I bent down and stroked him relentlessly, ruffling his head playfully and he leaped up at me, yapping like crazy. "Aw, how's mommy's little boy?" I cooed. Ace flopped onto his back and I tickled his tummy. "Aw, I'm so glad to see you! You know it's me, don't ya, Ace?" I scooped my little fluff ball up into my arms as he was still only a little puppy who weighed little to nothing.

"He's been a pain," Harley complained, as she saw him lick off my face paint. "Hasn't stopped barking since I managed to grab hold of 'im and get his leash."

"Aw, Ace, did you give mean old Harley a hard time?" I tutted, scratching behind his ears. "Harley, what's happening now?"

"Mister J's telling them lot to do something, I dunno what," Harley explained. She flicked her blonde pigtails behind her shoulders. "Somethin' to do with getting all that money we got today into the back garden."

"The garden? What for?"

"Don't ask me."

"_Harley_!" The Joker called, viciously from the hallway, which made us all, including Chase, jump.

"What is it?" Harley called back.

"Are you going to make yourself useful or not, woman?" he barked. "Come here. _Now_."

Harley sighed and skipped out of the room. I bounced my puppy in my arms and displayed him to Chase, but even that didn't put a smile on my face. Ace tried to wriggle his way out of my arms, but I firmly kept him with me.

"Hey, hey…no, no, no…don't try and escape now, darling," I breathed, stroking his head.

I cautiously looked at the door, awaiting for The Joker to enter. I heard Chase still weeping and sniffling behind me.

When he finally did enter the room, and much to my astonishment he was munching on an apple, Ace the Second jumped down from my arms and scampered away. Joker followed the puppy with his eyes, as did I, and Ace ended up going over to Bradley's corpse and in a rather cute way, started sniffing his bullet-ridden head in adorable wonder. I giggled at the sight of this unusual cuteness, but had to pick him up again when he started licking the blood on Bradley's head, like he was food.

"Hungry little fella, huh?" The Joker laughed, hysterically.

"Ace, come on, _come_ on," I laughed just as hard. I came over and picked him up. "Come on, away with you, you silly little mutt."

I placed him down by the doorway and lightly kicked him out by his butt with my gun, and he was soon off, trotting into the hallway.

"Close the door, Princess Jane," The Joker instructed, softly.

I did so, and faced him, straightened my glove as I did. I waited and waited for him to say something, but all he did was scoot his eyes around, exchanging looks from me, to Chase, to Bradley's dead body. He showed nothing through his clown makeup, as usual.

"Sir?" I broke the silence, hesitantly.

"Why did you do it, Jane?" he suddenly asked, but he didn't sound cross or like I was in trouble and had disobeyed him. He sounded captivatingly calm.

"I had to teach Chase a lesson," I explained. "I thought the best way to do it, was to punish him for beating me, even if _was _just for self-defence. To punish him for smoking marijuana, for _lying _to me, saying he'd stand _by _me, try to help me and then _did _one and now, Joker, most of the time when he calls me, he's off his face from alcohol. So I made him watch his own cousin _die _before his eyes, as a punishment for breaking me. I made them say goodbye and killed Bradley who may have helped me, but did _nothing _but criticise me my whole life."

Joker raised his eyebrows and then glanced towards Chase, who was glaring at him.

"Is this true, young man?" he asked, raucously.

I looked over my shoulder and widened my eyes, warningly.

"Y-Yes, sir," Chase mumbled. "It…it's true."

"See?" I said, triumphantly.

The Joker then opened the living door wider and stuck his head out into the hallway.

"Hey, Stan!" he shouted, like a strict schoolteacher. "Come here!"

"But, boss, I'm–" I heard Stan grumble.

"_Now_!" he instructed, sharply. Stan soon came bustling into the room with a gun in his hand and covering his face with a clown mask. The Joker threw his apple core to the side and got right into Stan's masked face. "See that?" he asked, pointing at the dead body.

"Yes, sir," Stan muttered.

"Get it off the chair an' take it out into the garden where the money is being dumped," Joker ordered.

Stan audibly gulped hard.

"Yes, boss," he stammered, before hurriedly rushing over to the body.

He carefully freed Bradley's hands by untying the rope, and immediately the body hit the floor, spilling out more gorgeous crimson blood out onto the carpet, where Bradley's arms got caked in it, as his arms flopped out in front of him. Stan kicked the chair aside and then started to drag Bradley's disembodiment out of the room, leaving a trail of blood lined as he was hauled away, leaving his mark.

After Stan was gone, I curiously watched as The Joker came behind Chase and undid his rope behind his back. He then came before him as Chase remained glued to his seat.

"Stand up," he ordered, gruffly.

Chase shakily stood to his feet and carried on breathing heavily in fear. Joker then slowly revealed a huge knife from his pocket, making Chase flinch.

"P-Please…don't hurt me…" he begged. "I…I'll do anything you want! Just don't…don't hurt me…or her…"

I couldn't help but manage a small smile at that.

Of course, The Joker would never listen to that sort of nonsense. Almost like it came out of nowhere, he held Chase at knifepoint, clutching onto his face, overpowering the eighteen year old. Chase spluttered and squirmed, tears still falling down his face, but Joker had control now. Of course, I wasn't going to step into this. He did this to almost everyone.

"Look at me," Joker grunted, moving Chase's head about until it was in the position he wanted. "Keep still! You should be grateful, little boy, Princess Jane decided to spare you. I just _knew _she would do the right thing, and she did. She's very smart, you know. Now, Chase, don't be nervous. You may…remember me from a _long time _ago…but…I'm not that guy anymore, you understand? That man you met a long time ago is _dead_. _Dead_! So let's start over, shall we? Now, I said the boy who Jane chooses to spare will be given a choice to join our team. Are you prepared to?"

"Y-Yes…as long as–"

"A very wise decision."

The scene was interrupted by the door opening wider, and James himself entering the room. My mouth gaped open as I gripped onto my gun tightly.

"Joker, we–" James cut off his words, and look horror-struck when he saw what was before him. The Joker immediately forced Chase to move farther away from his father, grabbed him, and this time firmly holding him around the chest and placing the knife warning under his chin, but not digging it in hard. He glared at James, deviously. "J-Joker…what…what are you _doing_?!" he yelled.

"Dad…dad get _out _of here!" Chase cried.

"Joker, you _said _you wouldn't hurt him!" James shouted. "Let him go! _Please_! Let my son go, now!"

"Dad…don't! It won't _help_!"

"No, son, I'm not letting him hurt you!"

"Alright, James, time to get out now," I said, calmly, pointing the gun at James. I started sauntering towards him, forcing him to walk backwards towards the doorway. "Come on…Chase isn't going to get hurt. Don't be a little _half-wit _now."

"Dad, just listen to her!" Chase cried out. "She's right! Don't…don't let yourself get hurt!"

"No! Chase, I…" James began, trying to get past my gun.

I forcefully pushed him backwards again, this time getting him out of the room.

"You can trust me when I say your son won't be hurt," I said, still remaining unusually composed. "Aren't I right, boss?"

"Absolutely," Joker answered, sounding the most monotone he'd ever been.

"No! Chase!" James yelled, but I soon slammed the door shut in his face and leaned against it, to prevent him from entering the room again. He banged hard on the wall, but of course my heart was numb, and didn't feel anything. "Let me in!" he pleaded. "Don't hurt my son!"

"Oh shut up!" I snapped. "He's not going to get hurt, okay? Just tootle off!"

I looked back at The Joker who was now burying his head into Chase's, still keeping the knife under his chin.

"You work for me now," he hissed into his face, gruffly. "You wanna live?" Chase didn't say anything. "You wanna _live_?" Joker repeated.

"Y-Yes!" Chase exclaimed.

"Then you follow orders and be a good little thug, you understand?" Joker growled.

"I understand," Chase said, at once.

Chase let out a tiny whimper. The Joker and I chuckled at the same time.

"Hey, boss?" I said, grinning at him. He looked over to me, curiously. "I believe Chase wanted to make a request."

"Is this true, young man?" The Joker asked sounding almost polite.

"Yes, sir," Chase said. He seemed to have grasped the duty of being a thug almost instantly. "I…I need to ask…look…I…I really appreciate the fact you've…you've spared my life and–"

"Why so serious, Chase?" The Joker questioned. He roughly let him go, pushing him in front of him. I immediately prepared myself and stood, alert, ready if he was going to try and make a run for it. "_Tell_ me, young Chase," Joker ordered, his voice changing back to the psycho clown voice.

"I'm eighteen, I…I'm not little…" Chase spluttered.

Joker snickered. "He's exactly like you, Jane," he whispered.

"I'm _nothing_ like her," Chase retorted. "Not anymore."

Joker raised his knife, sharply, in warning, and Chase staggered backwards upon seeing the blade being lifted towards him.

"Let's not…get off to a bad start, Chase," The Joker warned, waving the knife to say 'no.' "Now, are you going to tell me…or _not_? Because I always like my men to voice their opinion."

Once again, I knew The Joker was lying. He _never _let his men say their opinion. If they did, then they'd be putting their lives at risk. Literally.

"Look, I…I'll do anything you want…" Chase stammered, putting his hands in front of him as a sign to cool himself down. "I'll do all you want as long as you…or _her_… don't hurt _anymore _of my family. You've taken Bradley, but…you hurt no one else."

"And who are these people, specifically, PJ?" Joker asked me, over-exaggerating his wonder. He licked his lips, tenderly.

"His mom…his aunt and uncle…" I sighed.

"If…if you spare them then I'll do anything you want just _please_–" Chase began.

"Chase, you are just like your father, always keen to make _deals_," Joker said. "But I don't mind that. What do _you _think, Janey baby?"

"I guess it's fair enough," I said, truthfully.

Joker glared at Chase, but somehow managed to smirk, craftily at him.

I was shocked at what The Joker said next. He quickly glanced at me with a stern look. I knew that meant to pay attention to every single word.

"If any of your family, including your father, are hurt starting from…_now_…then it's not my fault, okay? Or Princess Jane's. If they're hurt…they're hurt in an _explosion _or in a _shooting_…"

"But…but they'll still be your _doings_!" Chase shouted.

"Ah-da-da-da…_no _they won't, young Chase," he chuckled. "_I _cannot possibly know where your family _are _at the moment. I will not touch 'em with my _own_ bare hands an' they will _not _touch the end of _my_ knife or _my_ bullets…on your request. But if they're in the wrong place, at the wrong time, it ain't my problem. Okay?"

"O-Okay…" Chase finally mumbled.

"Welcome to the world of _chaos_, my young fellow," Joker laughed. "Now, you go and see your daddy to let him now I kept my word and didn't hurt you. You, uh…you like smoke weed, do you? I'm sure my men can give you a line or two." He chuckled mockingly. "Now off you go. Jane, you stay here, young lady."

"Yes, sir," I said, immediately.

Chase dashed out of the room, and I stood aside to let him free. I heard him start sobbing in the hallway, but I knew it was best to ignore it.

"Come here," Joker instructed to me. "And be _happy_."

I beamed happily and skipped over to him. He smirked down on me, this time, stroking my face with the blade. I heard him snigger sinisterly when I closed my eyes and crazily felt the searing blade trace my cheek. I opened my eyes again and giggled like a shy schoolgirl.

"Well…I did it," I squeaked.

"Indeed," The Joker said, still prodding the blade on my cheek. "Well, beautiful, it seems I was right all along. I _knew _something had come over you…made you _just like me_."

"I'm not crazy," I said.

"_I'm _not," he said, stiffly. "I'm not either. We match. Don't we?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I knew you'd figure out the right thing to do…and you did. I am most impressed, Jane."

"Are you?" I grinned. "I thought you'd _hate _the fact I killed Bradley and _not _Chase. It would have made _sense _more to have killed him but–"

"Shush, shush, shush…it's _fine_, little one. Just fine. You did what I asked you do. You followed orders, _all _while using that _mind _of yours in both its good _and _bad ways. Using that possessed mind of yours to your advantage, huh?"

"I've done that for so long now," I breathed, sounding childish again. "Me no like it. I got _sooo bored _trying to fight it, so now I just _go with it_."

Joker guffawed cruelly. "Ahh, you _are _a sweetheart," he cooed. He paused for a while, looking at me, curiously. I could almost see the wheels whirling around in his mentally distressed brain. "Now. It appears your war paint is wearing off too much, Jane," he finally said, softly. "It appears to have faded away. Go upstairs and preen yourself, because a princess needs a good pampering before a video shoot."

I gasped with more excitement than I intended.

"A _video shoot_?" I squeaked. "What _for_? Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Ah-ah…patience, Jane," he said, strictly. His sudden glare made my bite my lip to hush my mouth, but my grin still refused to leave my face. "You didn't think I found some interesting things in the Ingham boy's posh flat? All sorts of fancy equipment. One of which was an expensive video camera. Now, my other one was _destroyed_, but now Ingham's _dead_…thanks to good old Princess Jane…I can _use _that to, uh…send out a little video to the Gotham folk."

"Oh, like those super-cool videos you did that got on the news?" I recalled, trembling with anticipation. "Like that one where you had that stupid man dressed up as Batman tied to a chair and–"

"Exactly, princess," he answered, his scars rising on his cheeks in a scheming smile.

"But you _don't _have anyone to tie up!" I whined.

"No, but I _do_ have a little victim, don't I?"

"What? Who?"

"Bradley, of course, sweetheart."

"But Bradley's dead."

"_That _doesn't matter. Why'd you think I sent his body out into the garden? Ready for the video, of course. _And _the money."

"What are we gonna do with the money?"

"All good things come to those…who _wait_. Go make yourself up, your highness. Meet me in the garden when you're finished. And take off that stupid tie, will you? Ruins your entire outfit."

"Hey! I'll have you know, this tie makes–"

"Take…it…_off_."

"Yes, daddy."

"Just remember this. Come down the garden…ready to answer questions. Think about everything you've done so far. Everything _I've _done. What you _believe _in. Prepare to be faithful and smart like you truly are. Huh? If you're not _truthful_, you die, okay, Princess Jane?"

"Okay, daddy."

"There's some war paint upstairs in James's bathroom. Go get some, pretty face."

He walked past me, purposely pushing me aside, and I followed him out of the door and into the hallway. I noticed Chase was nowhere to be seen, but I heard laughing come from the kitchen, presumably where all the thugs were getting high. I almost tripped over little Ace the Second, who was snarling ferociously at The Joker making his way into the kitchen.

"Come on, Ace," I sighed, picking him up. He yapped happily as soon as he saw my face. Ace still had his leash on around his collar, and I snipped it off and tied it around my wrist. "Stop your yapping," I laughed. "We need to move." I carried him up the stairs has he continued to drown my ears out with his barking. As I ventured down the hallway stinking of weed, I heard a faint voice crackle into my ear. Ace barked loudly again upon hearing it. "Ace! Be quiet!" I snapped.

I had to let him scamper down the stairs when he refused to stop barking. I listened out closer where I heard the voice come again. It was very timid, shaking terribly. It was coming from the room on the end, which I presumed was James's bedroom. I tiptoed closer to the door and put my ear against it.

I then realised it was Chase talking.

"M-Mom…listen…I'm okay, I promise you," I heard him say, trying to sound confident like he usually was. "I'm at dad's, I _told _you. I'm using his phone. I got lost…look…mom, I'm okay, just…make sure you're safe and they're secure at that hospital. D-Do me a favour? Ring aunt Hannah and uncle Darrell and…tell them…tell them to stay safe, I don't want anything else to happen to them. Yes, I _know _The Joker's been caught but he's coming back…Mom I'm scared! I'm _scared _you're gonna get hurt, just _please_…mom don't worry about me, I'm fine. I'm _fine_. Yes! Look, I'll…I'll visit you as soon as I can. I-I promise, just _please _ring them and tell them to stay safe and _not _move out of their house. Just t-trust me, okay? Okay? Mom, I love you, I'm not gonna be stupid…"

I sighed inaudibly and moved away from the door. I couldn't stand listening to him plead anymore. I wasn't sure if I should have felt sorry for him or found him pathetic.

Nevertheless, I made my way into the bathroom, where the pots of white and black war paint were already lying there, like they had been waiting for me. I threw off my gloves and undid my tie, like I had been told. In a way, it _did _look better without it. I coated my hand into the white face paint. My whole body was quivering with adrenaline and I kept giggling and squealing unexpectedly. I glazed the white paint all over my face and ears, making myself look just like The Joker.

The scary thing was, we looked very similar in the makeup. I was almost the spitting image of him, minus the scars and red lips. I still had my black gothic lips. Well, I _was _his daughter, we were always going to look alike, but I looked completely different as Princess Jane. I was supposed to, though. It made me cackle loudly how different and funny I looked. How _un_-princess like I looked. It was truly hilarious. To me, anyway.

After my makeover, I instantly ran down the stairs to make my way down to the garden, of course having to go through the kitchen, but all the thugs and Harley had moved into the living room by now, as I heard them all bustling about and having a loud conversation, Harley of course being the loudest. I had still hung onto my gun as I could never be armed without one from now on. I nearly tripped over the puppy again but placed him back in the kitchen and slammed the door behind him. He barked and scratched the door but I had to ignore him.

My legs were shaking with so much adrenaline, I was surprised I wasn't tripping over, as I came out into the pitch-black garden. The Joker was waiting patiently, immediately hearing my arrival and looking over his shoulder as I approached him, with a huge smirk on my face. He firmly held onto an expensive-looking video camera, but I couldn't make out what he was holding in his other hand. Behind him was all the money we'd stolen that day, in a huge tower, and beside it, was Bradley's rotting corpse, on his front, looking so peaceful, his blood now drying up into his olive skin tone. A joker card had been placed on the dead body's back. I shuddered with the feeling of achievement, smiling down at what I had done.

"Ah, here you are," Joker said. "All fresh an' _done-up_. Looking beautiful."

"Yep," I giggled. "What you got there?" I pointed at the item in his hand.

"Matchsticks," he answered, impassively, displaying them. I gasped in pure delight and squealed loudly, bursting into psychotic giggles. "Excited, huh?" Joker chuckled.

"Am _I _going to use them?" I shrieked.

"Because you've been so good, I'm gonna let you set fire to _all _this money," Joker said. "D'ya like the sound of that?"

"On camera?" I gasped.

"Uh-huh, but as long as you remember what I told you."

"Uhh…umm…answer questions, say what I believe in, be faithful, smart and, uh…be _truthful_, yeah that's it! And be obedient! And uh, don't be foolish! Support _you_…fight for what's right. Right?"

"Good girl, now take 'em." He handed me the matchsticks in their box and walked past me and slightly over to the side. He started chuckled nastily as he fiddled around with the camera. "Sit on the grass," he ordered over his shoulders. "Be that cute little girl you are."

"Yes, father," I screamed with laughter and sat down on the grass like I was told.

As I sat there, waiting for our video to begin, my mind was shouting at me, telling me all the things I should say. I heard whispers, gunshots, screams of all different pitches, but I just found myself giggling at all of them. I bit my tongue until it bled, trying not to distract The Joker.

The screams were deafening, you know. Ripping out every part of my brain.

I heard mom bark my name. My real name.

I gasped suddenly when I flash of Theo's snarling face came back, making me shudder and jerk backwards in surprise. My body shook violently for a few seconds, as I saw him spit in my face.

_Slut_.

I breathed heavily and it soon went away again after I shook my head and scrunched my eyes, and replaced with the sound of a gunshot, making me go back to my insane self.

The Joker had ignored all of that, and was still trying to figure of the camera.

I knew he was planning something chaotic in his mind. I wasn't stupid you know, I _knew _he was going to try and use me as bait for something or other. He'd lied when he said he didn't plan. Schemes were whirling through his mind 24/7 and he knew what he was doing at every moment. He had a goal, and he would go to extreme lengths to get to it, as would I.

I just had to be careful when the camera was put on me. I had to show my loyalty and that I believed in The Joker's vision of anarchy.

Because I did. That doesn't make me mad, you know. All I believe in is fairness.

Finally, The Joker figured out how to put the camera on record, by which time I had stopped sharply twitching because of my stupid brain. I continued to twiddle with the matchsticks as I listened to every word The Joker was now saying.

Because I wanted to listen. My mind was warning me if I didn't follow him I would die.

"Hellooo, good people of Gotham," The Joker sneered into the camera. "Betcha didn't expect to see me back, did ya? You all thought ya precious Batman an' good old Commissioner Ned Flanders had gotten rid of me. Well after a little breakdown I'm pleased to say I have made a full recovery. I have to give you people some bad news. Your caped crusader ain't _all _what he cracked up to be, huh? We all miss Harvey Dent and his bunny Rachel, but now they've gone you lot are going to have to fight for yourselves without 'em to hold your hand. An' before you all believe you lot proved me wrong and no one believes in my vision, I just wanna share something with you. Something truly horrifying. For those of you who believe people don't support me you're wrong…you lot wonderin' how I escaped from Arkham? Well, uh, I received help from two wonderful ladies. One of 'em has fulfilled my desire to no longer be a single man. Harley Quinn. You may have heard of her, or maybe not." Guys, girls go _crazy _for a clown!" He snickered callously. "And the _other _lady…well…as a token of my appreciation to her I want you lovely people to meet her. But bow your heads because she's no normal girl. She's a princess." He swirled the camera around and then shot it in my direction, focusing it carefully on me, sitting on the grass. I was fiddling with the matchsticks in my hand. "Hello, your highness," Joker greeted, unable to control his giggling.

I immediately looked up and smiled at the camera. I wanted to make a good first impression. I desired to warn the people of Gotham I meant business. I was desperately keen to carry out what The Joker wanted, because it's what was right.

This wasn't humiliating to me in the slightest. This was a chance to have a bit of fun. Show off. Mess with people's heads. I couldn't help the fact I craved attention constantly.

"Hey there, Joker," I said, pleasantly. "What's this for?" I gestured at the camera with by nodding my heavily distressed head. The mental distress actually _did _make it seem like a boulder attached to my neck.

I pretended not to know, just to come across as cute and obnoxious.

"Just making a little video for the inhabitants of Gotham," The Joker replied.

"Oh, I see."

The Joker chuckled immaturely when I gave a little wave to the camera. His ghostly presence just made my insanity plunge into me to the maximum. It felt _so _good.

"Tell 'em who you are," Joker instructed. "They may not know you that well."

"I am Princess Jane Price," I answered, beaming widely.

"How old are you?" he asked, gruffly.

"I am seventeen years old."

"Seventeen." He snickered, making my spine vibrate with adrenaline. "Now. Tell 'em…do you work for me?"

"Mm-hmm." I nodded enthusiastically.

"And why do you work for me, huh?"

"Because I support what you do."

"Which is?"

"Introducing…anarchy and chaos. Showing the City's true colours. Bringing out the worst of people."

The Joker then moved the camera to the rotting body next to me that was beginning to reek with a vile stench, but I didn't care.

"What's this, Princess Jane?" The Joker questioned, pretending to sound shocked.

"Oh, this is a boy I killed before," I answered, like it was no big deal, because it wasn't.

"Oh deary me, little girl," Joker laughed, heartily. "What's that on his back?"

I picked up the joker card delicately and displayed it in front of the camera.

"One of your babies, Joker," I chuckled.

"Did you nick that off me? Huh?"

"Nope."

"You better not have," he growled, pinching my cheek hard with his glove hand. "Now, tell me, sweetheart, who is this boy you killed? What did he do wrong?"

"His name was Bradley Darrell Ingham, and he didn't want to believe in your vision, unfortunately," I explained, my childish voice escaping, making me sound even more disturbing.

"We gave him a choice though, didn't we, Jane?" Joker said, playfully.

"Oh yeah, but he didn't wanna believe it," I answered, babyishly. Throughout my answer, Joker continued to snigger deviously. "He said all criminals are the same. That they're worth nothing. He said he couldn't sympathise with someone from a different background compared to him an' his _snobby _parents. He didn't care, J, that me and you went through _traumatising _mental attacks. Nope. Not a care. So I kicked him and beat him up before I _killed _him."

"When will these citizens learn, Jane?" Joker cooed, stroking my face, his arm stretching in front of the camera. "They're so selfish, _aren't _they?"

"Uh-huh."

"But _we're_…not."

"Of course not!"

"Do you want Batman to reveal himself at last?"

"Yeah! I wanna see everyone's faces when he takes his mask off!" I said, because it was true.

"If he does that, I may spare him," Joker said.

"Why, Joker?" I asked, grinning, murder on my mind again as that picture of achievement came swarming back. "He's no good for Gotham anymore. Gotham don't need a giant bat flying around saving everybody. What Gotham needs is order!"

"Too true, Jane." I beamed brightly into the camera, feeling pleased with myself. "Is this what you believe in, your ladyship? That Batman is no longer Gotham's saviour?"

"Yeah!" I squealed.

"And you believe in chaos and crime, hmm?"

"Yep."

"You're not, uh…_brainwashed_, are you?"

"Oh no, never brainwashed. I made the _choice _to free you with Harley's help. Because I _wanted _to."

"You certainly _did_, and I am most grateful, Princess Jane. Why do you have matchsticks in your hand, beautiful?"

"Because I'm gonna start a fire to this money behind me in a minute."

"On _my _orders?"

"Of course, because we _all _know money is worthless."

"Well, just before you do that to the money we stole form Gotham General Bank, because _they _didn't need it, why don't you tell them what we expect of citizens?"

That question struck me, but I thought for a few moments. The Joker had said to think about what _he _had done. He had wanted Batman to reveal himself the whole time and until he did he would continue creating chaos. That was the logical answer.

"Uhh…well…if they want all this to stop and they want to put an end to these killings…then all they have to do is persuade Batman to take his goddamn mask off…and the commissioner can help with that, too! Surely, he sees sense in that request!"

"Well _done_, Jane. Now, because you're working for me, set fire to that money like an obedient little girl, will you?"

"Yes, boss!"

We both laughed crazily as I leaped onto my feet and looked behind me. I instantly lit up my first matchstick on the box and launched it on the gasoline-leaking small pile of money. As I lit it up more, I heard Joker growling back into the camera, sounding just as vile and psychotic as ever.

"Now, now, now, Batman…commissioner…do you _really_ want this sort of behaviour running around Gotham? Do you want more teenagers to fall into my trap? Do you wish for little girls like this to believe such things? _This _is how _crazy _things are getting people! You want teens to be murderous and to support me? Then you carry on playing dress-up, Batman, because if order _isn't _established _soon_, I'll let her loose to do…_things_ _herself_. _That_…will not be a pretty sight. Don't be fooled by the fact she's a young girl. So, uh…people are _gonna _continue to die, buildings will _continue _to be blown up, and a young girl will continue to get _crazier _as long as Gotham needs Batman. 'Cos let's face it, it don't. He looked over his shoulder, aiming the camera so it focused on the action I was doing. "How's that fire?!" he called, coldly.

I shrieked in excitement.

"Looking beautiful!" I sang in response. Because it did look beautiful.

I love fire.

I saw The Joker giggle evilly and look back into the camera.

"So, there's whatcha gotta do. Not difficult, is it? It's just not _safe _for a girl her age to be working with a guy like me, but she's doin' it 'cos she's _smart_. Very smart. And don't just think she's the only young person with me. There's _more_. Now, don't be _foolish_, commissioner. Convince your bat friend to give in before a little teen…is…_hurt_. And remember, I'm a man of my _word_."

I jumped a little when The Joker burst into his laughter of pure madness, jiggling the camera out of control and pressing the record button, so it was off. He wheeled around and faced me, still laughing until he was almost crying. I couldn't help but laugh along with him and my mind, my shrieking cackles sounding more girly and irritating than usual.

That was a sign I was turning psychotic myself, but I didn't care anymore.

The Joker approached me in front of the burning money, and I smirked up at him when he came up close to my face. He was unable to control himself, sniggering insanely and showcasing his golden teeth that hadn't been cleaned in what seemed centuries.

"Am I…turning mad, daddy?" I asked, smiling wider when I remembered I could call him that now.

"It only takes one little trigger inside someone's mind," The Joker said, dangerously soft. His callous voice was intriguing. He delicately stroked my face like dad would have done. "Once that trigger of madness is fired then _boom_…next thing you know you're in a _dangerous_ place, pretty face. Seems like _you're _trigger was has been fired, hasn't it, PJ?"

"I guess you're _right_!" I squeaked in my baby voice. "It still…it's still coming back to me, you know…Theo, and…and the–"

"Ahh, you'll be _fine_," he chuckled. "It's _all _about looking into the future. You work for me now. I knew you'd come in handy, princess. You've come in _very handy_…indeed. The police are suckers for chasing troublesome teenagers, but _you'll _cut they're work out, won't ya?"

"Oh yes," I laughed.

"You _do _fascinate me, Jane," he went on. "So much strength as come back into you, hasn't it? You're _smart_. You know you're working for me…in _my _City…but like I promised before, I'll let you lose for a bit…"

"You _will_?" I gasped. "I didn't think you would _really_–"

"I'm a man of my word, doll. Of course. But be good and use that intelligent mind of yours."

"Of course!"

"And stay in contact with me, you have your cell phone. Go out and fulfil your royal duties, hmm? As I reward for being so good, because you _have _impressed me, Jane. Besides, I _want _you to go and have a little fun."

He cut off when a deafening squeal that was so loud we could hear it coming from James's kitchen. The Joker didn't even stir, and remained focused on me. I looked curiously out to the house before turning back to The Joker.

"Is that Harley?" I asked.

"Probably looked at her reflection," Joker answered. "I have her, uh…a little _cut _before while you were puttin' your war paint on."

"A cut?"

"She dared to argue with me before I came out here and I couldn't hush her little mouth. So…I put a little _smile _on her face!"

"You never!"

"Most definitely."

I burst into that squealed-driven laughter again.

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed.

"But forget Harley…you listen to _me_," Joker said, sternly, immediately making me pay attention. "You go an' have a little fun, princess. But you must be aware, once that tape is sent off and put on the news, the cops will be on your tracks."

"They won't catch _me_!" I boasted.

"Listen! Listen _carefully_, my dear little girl. If they _do _catch you an' send you off to Arkham, then let them."

"_Let them_? But why?!" I was amazed.

"Go with the flow," Joker cackled. "Think…think of, uh…your _father_." He raised his eyebrows, cunningly, and I gave a knowing nod back. "Leave me, Harley an' the boys to it. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

He then revealed a switch-blade knife from one pocket, and a pretty little black handgun from another.

"And _don't_…fail me," he threatened, all of sudden losing his charm and giving me the sociopath stare of death. "Soon as you disobey me, show weakness…fail to follow orders…_you die_. Understand?" I nodded, keenly, not feeling afraid. "Don't let _any _of 'em get away, Princess Jane. Make sure all of their eyes close for good. No good having a little betrayer with their eyes _open_."

He pinched my cheek affectionately and without saying another word, he walked away, picking up the video camera as he left back towards the house.

I stood holding my weapons in my gloved hands, stroking them both, lovingly. I allowed my pale skin of a Goth to be boiling up by the fire that still flickered and swirled behind me.

My mind hadn't stopped reeling all day.

And I don't think it was about to stop.

There was an insane laugh lingering at the back of throat. All it took to let it escape was one look at Bradley's deceased body before me. Hilarious how he thought he could negotiate with me.

The Joker was right. Killing _is _making a choice. And I had made that choice. And it was the right choice.


	19. RIP: Revenge Is Pleasure

_**Chapter 18 is pretty badass.**_

_**NOTE: violence, threat, language, murder etc. coming up, but yeah, there's a lot of it, and of course Princess Jane's disturbing mind ;)**_

* * *

**Chapter 18 - RIP Revenge Is Pleasure**

With my knife neatly placed in my skirt's pocket, and my gun in between my gloved fingers, I began to make my way out of James's house, my head feeling very heavy with insanity.

I felt wonderfully peculiar.

My hand was on the door handle, and I was just about to start my adventure, when a desperate plea came above the stairs.

"Shaylee, wait!"

I perked my head up to see Chase was running down the stairs. I faced him, and he gently held my free hand. His face was bright crimson, and his eyes were still watery, but he was no longer sobbing.

"I told you Chase, that's not my name anymore," I said.

"Sorry, I…" he mumbled. "Jane. Where are you going?"

"Uh…just for, uh…a little outing," I replied.

"Where? I mean, why isn't The Joker letting you stay?" Chase asked.

"Well…he said I deserve go out and have a _little fun_!" I chortled.

Unbelievably, Chase was still holding onto my hand.

"W-What does he mean by that?"

"I'm just gonna go out and do things for _myself_, honey," I said, sweetly, pulling myself closer to him. "Because I _do_, do things for myself, y'know? I'm just going to let him and you lot do what you please, he _is _smart and knows what he's doing. He wants me go out and have a little fun, so that's what I'm going to do."

"Are you…are you going to go out killing?" he gulped, squeezing my hand hard.

"Only people who deserve to die," I answered, blankly, in my honey-filled voice. "The Joker can deal with the little people who he just wants out of the way."

Chase shook his head as I remained smirking at him.

"I just…I just can't believe you," I said.

"Chase…"

"After all this time, this is what you're doing…"

"Chase–"

"You've just turned so crazy that you–"

I quickly pressed my harsh black mouth onto his petal lips. This time, he didn't hold back. We harshly kissed for several moments, but I only did it to shut him up. It felt so good to kiss him again, tongues intertwining and all. I'd missed kissing him passionately like I did at that moment. I viciously came out of the kiss too, but scowled at him for calling me crazy. He was open-mouthed, but did not say another word. He got the picture.

I managed to escape a little laugh, but then jumped a little when I saw Harley had come out into the hallway herself, pulling up a strap on her shoulder. My eyes widened in horror at the Glasgow smile that had now been plastered on her face by The Joker. It was still dripping blood slightly, making her look like a starving hyena. Harley looked extremely hot and bothered, but for some reason burst into hysterics when she spotted Chase and I. Chase darted around when Harley started laughing.

"Well, look who's gettin' lucky, eh, Pricey?" she laughed.

"Harley, shut up," I snapped.

"What…What happened to her face?" Chase asked, nervously.

"Mister J told me I needed to smile more," Harley whined. "But I didn't mind havin' a little scarred smile on me. It's kinda cute don't you think? "

"Uhh…yeah, yeah…of course…" I muttered.

"It was _meant _to be a punishment, but it weren't ya know," she blabbered on. "We both laughed while he did it, so how is it a punishment? At least he knows it would _suit _me! Don't look at me like that, Chasey boy…it's not like it'll happen to _you_!"

"Alright…alright, Harley, shut up," I groaned, running my fingers tiredly through my clown-painted face. "Stop making out you're so badass because you're not. You agreed to help a guy severely injure your once best friend, remember?

"Hey, c'mon! Not _severely _injure her!"

"You still agreed to do it. And now she's dead. My mother. Think about that."

"What?!" Chase cried.

"Quiet, Chase," I sighed. "Look, don't listen to anything _she _says. She thinks she's in charge but she's merely The Joker's sex toy. Listen to _him_, not her."

"Sex toy, huh?" Harley mocked. "You said yourself I was just as bad as him with the amount of people I kill!"

"Whatever. Now give me your phone, and some money. I'm going out, on The Joker's orders." Harley huffed and stomped back into the living room. I folded my arms impatiently, tapping my foot, as I glanced up Chase, who was staring at me. "What?" I snapped.

"She…she didn't kill your mother," Chase piped up, sounding puzzled. "Wasn't that…Harleen Quinzel? …Oh…oh holy shit!"

"Yeah, took you a while to figure _that _one out, didn't it, Chase?" I giggled. "Same woman."

"W-Why are you working with the woman who murdered your mom?!" Chase exclaimed.

"Shhh!" I hissed.

"_Why_?" he asked again, lowering his voice.

"I don't know, because The Joker works with her. She helped me get him out of Arkham."

"Yeah, The Joker, your father, working with the woman who murdered the mother of child. Hmm. Makes a lot of sense."

"Oh Chase, shut up, you don't know _half _the story. Yeah, Harley did it, but she didn't mean to."

"What? What do _mean _she didn't–?"

"Here ya are!" Harley sighed, approaching us both again. She handed me her black and red cell phone and a small purse, just filled heavily with coins. "I want those back. How will you keep 'em safe?"

"Pockets, maybe?" I laughed, mockingly. I placed the small purse in my skirt pocket, along with my knife, while placing the cell phone in my other pocket. They both had zips, which was handy, and my knife had a soft cover on the blade, so I wouldn't feel its agonising sharp end dig me in my leg as I walked. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to," I chuckled, managing to find some happiness with the thought of revenge. "A princess must always be on time for her _subjects_."

I turned around to walk out of the door, and heard Harley walk away down the hallway.

Chase always had to stop me in my tracks.

"Jane?" he squeaked. This time I smiled at the usage of my new name.

"Yes, Chase?" I said, quietly.

"What are you gonna do?" he questioned, his voice cracking horribly.

"I'm going to pay a visit to a few people, if I'm caught, I'm caught."

"N-No! You can't!"

I wheeled around and glared at him.

"Don't you worry, baby, it's not gonna be your family," I promised. "That was the agreement, wasn't it?"

"But…but…"

"Shut up," I growled. I pushed him into another sloppy kiss, and he amazingly complied, though once we were out of the aggressive kiss he scowled at me. "I'll see you soon. Give me a call if you need me. This is Harley's phone. Ask The Joker's permission first, of course. Later."

I got out of there before he could say another word.

I dragged my heeled shoes out of the scummy avenue, and quickly made my way back into the open streets. I dashed around, trying to find a cab rank as quickly as possible. I knew my destination, but I didn't want to _walk_. I'm not that stupid. I'd have been caught in two seconds flat. Besides, I had a gun, and with a gun, I could anything I wanted.

The nearest cab rank was thankfully only a five minute walk out of the crummy avenue that James Delancey lived in. I zoomed past all the confused citizens, some of which were running around, pleading requests to one another. I wasn't quite sure why, The Joker's return hadn't even been revealed yet. Surely the video tape hadn't been broadcasted that quickly.

I finally met an empty cab, and the driver had his window down and was drinking a warm coffee. Grinning a half moon, I slowly lowered my head down to the window. He jumped a mile when he noticed me, spilling half of his coffee over.

"Careful," I giggled.

"S-Sorry…" he stuttered, quickly wiping himself. I maintained that large grin, and I could feel his nerves evaporate out of him. "C-Can I help you?" he asked, glancing his eyes around, anxiously.

"I'd like a lift," I said, in a scolding tone of voice, making it sound obvious.

"W-Where to?" he stammered.

"Uh…now, I _think _it's 17 Knight Road. Cicero." I brought out my gun and rested it on the open window, so it pointed directly at hum. I could tell his heart missed a beat as he backed off in his seat, staring at the gun. "Got it?" I asked, sweetly, fluttering my eyelashes.

"Y-Yes…" he muttered. "Hop in."

"You're too kind," I said.

I stood upright and started to make my way into the back seat, until I heard a loud grunt behind me. I darted around and immediately pointed my gun at what turned out to be a middle-aged man, who looked completely horrified at me. Other citizens passing by stopped in their tracks to watch the action, but of course, that didn't crush my confidence in the slightest.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he demanded.

"Stay back, big man," I growled.

"What's a young girl like you doing with a gun in her hand?" he taunted.

"Look at that girl's _face_!" a citizen cried out.

"Her face is painted like The Joker!" another exclaimed, hysterically.

"What kind of _freak_ is she?" the man before me mocked, making every citizen around start to laugh.

I scowled at them all, humiliation starting to creep through my veins. I loathed it.

"Shut up!" I shouted at them. "You all better shut up! I'll _shoot_ you all if you don't!"

"You know a girl like you shouldn't threaten innocent people!" the man grunted, coming closer to me.

"Oh yeah? Well, _you _shouldn't make fun of a teenage girl, asshole."

"Why you holding a gun?"

"Because I _can_."

"And using it on a cab driver?"

"So _what_?" I then watched him raise his hand, but I managed to keep the pointed towards him. "Stay away from me!" I warned, my psychotic voice coming back out again.

My threatening 'Shaylee' voice had gone, but that didn't put him off.

His hand touched my shoulder, which immediately sparked my mind and sent it into another brutal battle, within half a second.

Horror came flooding back.

Theo's touch returned to my body, his horrid, slimy touch of a rapist. It made me shudder quite violently. Although it wasn't Theo touching me again, the man had yanked upon my shoulder so similarly that it was almost like it was Theo coming back to haunt me.

I shook my head vigorously to get Theo's vision to vanish away from me, as I saw him before for a slight second. I screamed loudly and kicked the man when the harsh touch pierced through me again. I felt the heaviness of my body return, and the weakness jolted through me, making me shake violently. My head just wouldn't stop his cold touch from leaving.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he stammered, stepping away.

I panted hard, squinting hard to get Theo away.

"No…" I grunted. "_No_!"

"Get away from her!" someone yelled.

I darted the gun in that direction, although I wasn't quite sure who had yelled out.

"I think _you _should stay away…" I threatened. I scrunched my eyes closed. "Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…" I whispered, hoarsely. I opened up my eyes again to see people were now scattering away from me. I glared back at the man before me.

_Kill_.

I was shocked that the order had come so suddenly.

_Kill him_.

I gripped the gun tighter.

"Now, calm down, I…I…didn't know you were in such distress…" the man started to fumble, now holding his hands up.

I laughed insanely.

"You _think_?!" I snickered. "Look at me! Do I look _normal _to you?! Who wants to be normal anyway? Normal is _bo-ring_!"

"Look, just, let me help you…" He dared to come closer to me again.

An swirling inferno through me made me load the gun in fiery impatience.

"If you come near me you'll regret it!" I snapped.

"Please, just, put the gun down…"

"_No_!"

_Kill, kill, kill_!

"No!" I screamed again.

_Kill him, Jane!_

_Shaylee, it's okay…he's trying to help you._

_No Jane, come on…he's…not…worth…it._

Then, he did the most idiotic thing he could have done. He touched my shoulder again, trying to be affectionate. Even though his touch was soft, it sparked that haunting memory of when I became a victim.

The scene repeated.

I shot him several times, screaming deafeningly, to drown out the shrieks inside my schizoid mind. The flames flickered, though became distorted quickly, and blood started oozing out of his corpse. I allowed the achievement to rush through my spine, and breathe out through my hard panting. When I saw several people rushing over to his aid, I leaped into the cab, which hadn't moved, much to my advantage.

"Move it!" I commanded to the cab driver, placing the gun beside me. He didn't need to be told twice. The engine started to roar and I flopped back onto the seat, gripping my head. "Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, _please_…" It was only then I realised we'd only just managed to get onto the road and we were driving quite slowly down it. I scowled at the driver through the head mirror. "Can't you go any faster?!" I barked.

"I'm sorry, love, but I can't exactly break the speed limit, can I?" he argued, shakily.

"Well, _I'm _sorry but I have a meeting with someone right now on this street and I have to tell you that I'm _late _for it already!"

"Well, you wasted your own fucking time threatening a guy with a gun _and _shooting him!"

"It was his own fault! I told him to stay away, mister! If he had listened to me, and hadn't touched me, then I wouldn't _have had _to have shot him, would I?" I managed to finally smile, disturbing the driver through his nervous expression. "What's that look for, huh?" I taunted. "You a little nervous?"

"N-No…having a girl dressed like The Joker's fan girl at the back of my cab doesn't make me nervous at all!" he spluttered, sarcastically.

I finally removed my hands from my head.

"Well that's good to know," I giggled.

There were several moments of intense silence as he drove me through the chaos-filled streets. I slowly stroked my gun next to me, and quietly let out an exasperated sigh. I closed my eyes and felt the rush of the cab flare along with the pleasure rushing through me. Once my eyes fluttered open again, I smirked at the pathetic little cab driver, folding my arms. I purposely disturbed him until he eventually arrived at my destination.

"Here, now get out," he ordered at me.

"Thanks, babe," I beamed. I grabbed my gun and started to edge towards the door. But my mind was in control now, and it made me look back towards the cab driver, grinning cruelly. "You know, there's probably a few bullets left in this," I said, craftily.

"Get…the fuck _out _of my cab!" he yelled.

"Hmm…okay, but, uh…" I leaned in close to his ear, with the gun still tight in my palm. I lowered my voice, my insane girly voice sounding even more disturbing in a gruff whisper. "You're not someone I can _trust_, I'm afraid…" He whimpered, loudly. "Shh, shh…The Joker always said to me that a victim's gotta be _quiet _before you dispose of a victim."

And with that, I proceeded to let a bullet beautifully explode through his brain with one simple shot to the head. He must have been a fool for not suspecting anything. I did it so quickly he didn't even get the chance to start triggering my mind with his screaming.

Once his head had been messed with, as I shouldn't have to be the only one who's head had to be messed (but for some reason wasn't killing me physically), I stepped my high heels out of the cab into Knight Road. I hadn't been here many times, only a few when Chase and I took a walk to clear our minds on extremely stressful days. It was one of the more rich parts of Gotham City, anyway, so of course, crummy people like me wouldn't be caught dead roaming an estate like that.

I exhaled heavily, and whispered to myself, "Oh, Shaylee Jane…what _are _you doing?"

_You're doing what's right_.

"Oh, God, not _again_…please…just go away for a moment!" I pleaded, hoarsely. "Just need a moment find the right house."

I didn't need to look far. The driver had actually dropped me off outside number 17, a very large, picturesque house that looked extremely old-fashioned, but still better than anywhere I'd ever lived. It looked charming, a perfect place for a _princess _to visit, not a little jailbird teen, like Shaylee Napier.

So, I took that opportunity.

Whose house is this, I bet you're wondering. Well, let's go back to say, seven years ago. Maybe even longer than that. In elementary school, I never had any friends apart from Chase. No friends. That was mostly because I didn't _want _to have friends because I didn't _need _any, but, having no friends also had its negatives. My whole elementary school life was a pile of shit, mostly thanks to the bullies who proceeded to make my school life hell, because I was a little different with how I dressed and because I didn't really seem to be able to concentrate in class because of my behavioural disorder. Until that day I beat her up and stood up for myself when she brought my mom into it.

_'__Aw Napier is sad because she don't have a mommy anymore.' _

That is nothing but a horrible little child by anybody's standards.

The day I exposed Kayley Lyons as a bully and a little coward at ten years old, which was some of my earliest memories of that great emotion of feeling powerful.

Nothing changed about Kayley even after her bullying on me decreased. She was still horrible, a terrible show off, and, oh…did I forget to mention totally lied about having schizophrenia? She may not have realised that at the time but saying stuff like that to get attention, especially in the presence of a paranoid schizophrenic like myself, it _really _makes you mad.

I hadn't seen her since that day I set fire to the classroom when she made me lose my mind at age thirteen. I still hadn't achieved revenge on her.

You may be thinking: why? Why kill a girl who I hadn't seen for years and was practically only a typical elementary school bully, who barely did anything to make me the monster I had become?

If it wasn't for her I wouldn't have been expelled. I know I said I didn't care, but I may have achieved just a _little _something if I had stayed in school. It was because of her I saw my hallucinated fire for the first time. It's because of her selfishness and her bullying, I got stressed and got into trouble. She made me go really made for the first time. If that hadn't have happened, maybe I would have just been a little more sane.

Besides, my mind was telling me I wasn't insane, but I knew for a fact I was becoming insane. I couldn't do anything about it. Nothing could hold me back now.

I knew this was Kayley's address because Chase and Alex had once been to her house party, not long before I was expelled. For some reason, I have a fantastic memory. I was fairly certain I was in the right street, and luckily for me, there was no one around, as it was coming up to midnight. If her parents or scruffy older brother Darren were home, I'd just shoot them, too. They weren't worth my time, after all. They would just give a wonderful killing rush anyway.

I very carefully walked up the pathway and past their orange fiesta, listening to the laughs infecting my brain. The gun in my shaking hand of adrenaline, and my knife carefully in my skirt pocket, prepared for the revenge. I got a wonderful pleasure when I surprisingly discovered the door was unlocked. I very quietly opened the door and stepped into the house, blindingly lit, even a chandelier welcoming me inside the ling hallway. I heard the television playing in a room to my left. I stood still as I very tenderly shut the door behind me.

"Hello?" an innocent female voice called from the room. Of course, that was Kayley. I recognised that brain-searing girly voice from anywhere. I didn't reply to her, but I did grin, knowingly. "Hello? Andre, is that you, honey?" Andre? I immediately presumed that was a friend of hers, or possibly a boyfriend. I knew that couldn't be her father's name. Where _were _her parents anyway? I stayed alert at all times, in case anything jumped out at me at any given moment. I listened closely to then hear Kayley shushing, softly. "Ruby, daddy's home," she whispered, excitedly.

By now I was completely puzzled. Ruby? However, I remained silent, and let the silence speak for itself. I wanted to see the shock on her face when she discovered I wasn't this Andre.

The gun remained tight in my grip. I flickered my eyes shut, and felt my head starting to yell. It had not stopped yelling since I recovered from my biggest mental breakdown that night. The screams returned. I heard mom's scream erupt in my mind, like it had done many times.

I sharply opened my eyes when I heard a strangled gasp. Kayley was now before me, looking exactly the same as she did in middle school, except her hair now dyed a bright maroon colour, but her makeup looking professionally done. She was holding to her chest a tiny baby, who could not me much older than a sweet two months old. When Kayley glanced down at the weapon in my hand, she held the baby's delicate head closer, and started to back away from me.

I hated my victims moving away. I instantly whipped my gun out and pointed it at her. She started to tremble, making it harder for her to walk backwards, until she was eventually pinned up against a wall.

"I wouldn't think about moving," I said, blankly, my psychotic 'girly' voice escaping again.

"Who…who are you?" Kayley cowered. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Oh, this _your _house now, is it?" I chuckled. "Aw, I thought your parents owned this dump."

"My…my parents moved away…t-to California…" Kayley fumbled. "So…if _that's _who you want then you'll be disappointed to know they're not here!"

"Oh, I don't want your parents," I snarled, now sauntering closer towards her. "I'm here to pay _you _a visit, Kayley."

"How…hoe do you know my name?!" she cried.

"How do I _know_?!" I laughed, heartily. "Oh, Kayley, I _am _disappointed in you. Don't you recognise me? It's been a while, but still."

She continued to stare at me, holding the baby close to her. I was surprised the baby wasn't screaming at the top of its lungs, but I guess this was one of those babies that slept through anything. Shame. Kayley gulped hard as realisation then etched into her Barbie facial features.

"Oh my god…" she whispered. "No…"

By now I was right up to her, so I buried the gun into her chest, making her squeal. I smirked triumphantly,

_She's under your power, Jane_, they said.

I laughed quietly.

"Do you know _now_, huh?" I asked, nodding childishly at her.

"Are you…are you that…that girl who made fun of that fact my grandpa died?" she recalled.

"Aren't _you _the girl who made fun of the fact that _my mom _died?" I taunted.

"That girl who set…fire to…oh god…oh god is that _you_?! W-Why are _you _here?!"

"Oh thank goodness you remember," I said, sarcastically.

"I forget your name…" she gasped. "But what…what are you _doing _here? What do you want with me?"

"Which one of those questions shall I answer first?" I chuckled. "Uhh…okay, let's start with, ah…I _am _that girl Kayley, yes. Oh, and it doesn't matter that you can't remember my name. I have a new one now. It's Princess Jane Price, Clown Princess of Crime, Blowing Things to My Kingdom Come."

"What are you doing in my house?!" she suddenly yelled.

"Whoa, whoa, calm your shit, Lyons," I sniggered. "I only came to pay you a little visit. You know? A little catch up.

"Why?!"

"Why not?"

"Get…get out of my house!"

"Not gonna happen."

"I'll call the cops!"

I dug the gun in even further, and glared at her with pure loathing. She could see that through my painted face, as she looked horrified as she held the baby desperately.

"_That_…wouldn't be wise, bitch," I hissed. I paused as I took in her terrified emotions, like The Joker would. "Let's start over. I'm _so _curious to know what you've been up to, Kayley, it's been _so long_! Tell me, who is this Andre? Hmm? Your forty-two-year-old boyfriend?"

"Fiancé, and he's nineteen so I'd shut your vile mouth," she growled.

"Ooh, looks like the little ten-year-old bully girl is coming back, huh?" I scolded.

"Shut up!"

"Why? Don't like the truth, Kayley?" I smirked as I raised my other hand to the baby she was holding. "And who's this gorgeous thing, then?" I asked, calmly.

"Do not touch her!" Kayley screamed.

I knew immediately by her desperate reaction that the baby was actually her own. I giggled nastily.

"So…you're seventeen, like me…you're engaged a have a baby?" I scoffed, intentionally boiling up her anger. "What a wondrous life you're living, huh?"

"And what a wondrous life _you're _having, yielding a fucking gun at a girl with a baby?! I always knew you were a sick, demented freak! You're crazy!"

"Crazy, am I? At least I was never a _bully_, like you were. Making fun of the outcast Goth girl for your own little pleasure? Well, you did a good job. I am no longer gothic, I have my own princess style now, Kayley. So thanks to your bullying, you partly kicked that out of me, didn't ya?"

"Don't be stupid," she mumbled.

"I'm _far _from stupid, you little _cunt_!" I barked, making Kayley shriek in fright. I then lowered my voice, but it unintentionally came out as a dangerous growl. "I know what you're thinking. Ooh, what a sick and twisted bitch she turned out to be. Look how crazy and psycho she is, with her silly tiara and clown makeup like _another _psychopath that's just recently visited this town. Listen here, for a mind to go a _little _out of control, things have to trigger it. The final trigger has been let off, Kayley. And…I don't think…I can stop it…this time…so…ta-da! I'm Princess Jane…and I'm _not _going to be pushed around anymore. Especially not by someone like you."

"Are you for _real_? We haven't even seen each other for…what? Four odd years? Why do you even care anymore? Why would you care about coming back to haunt _me _again, when we had our moments back when we were little _kids_?! You're…you're not hurting me and you're _not _hurting my baby!"

"Do you think I'm _that _heartless I would harm a little baby?" I snickered. "No. You see, Kayley…these past few days…weeks…years…in fact, my _whole life_…has been hell. I've been put through what no one should have to experience. Losing everything. _Everything_. I lost my mother. I lost my father. I fell in love…I lost him. And…and what exactly did I do to deserve that? If I recall correctly, Kayley, a few weeks after my mother was murdered, you and _those _two girl who I can't even remember the names off…you made fun of that! And uh…huh…look at me now…I can't control myself. I lost my father, but I still see him, you know. He's changed, but…I don't care. I've learnt recently the only sensible way to live in this world is to fight…fight for what's right…for what's _fair_. I didn't _deserve _to turn out like this, did I? So…what's only fair…is to gain revenge on those who made me lose my mind…revenge on the _evil _world around me and the horrible inhabitants who put me down…"

"N-No…please…I…you seriously can't kill _me_," she whimpered. "I had nothing to do with what you've been through!"

"Have you not? Weren't you the cause of what I did to that classroom that day? Weren't _you _the one who made me mad? Because of your silly little attention-seeking? I think you _were_!"

"But…but…"

"But?"

"You can't do this! The fact you've turned…like this had nothing to do with me! I haven't even _seen _you for–"

"I don't care. Once _all _the people who, uh…weakened me and put me down are disposed of…then I proceed into making this City see the light and that the people in this world…they're only waiting for their inner horror to be unleashed. Because it's coming you know. One day the citizens will all realise that…there _is _no good left in the world."

"Why are you talking like that? This isn't you! You…you've been brainwashed!"

"You're right. This isn't me. But I love it. I'm starting to like this job now."

"You call threatening to kill people a _job_?"

"It's not a paid job…it's voluntary. But voluntary shows you care, doesn't it?"

"You're starting to sound like that clown maniac…"

"He has a fucking _name_."

"The Joker! He's the reason my parents and my brother have moved away!"

"Oh and what? You didn't go with them because you have your precious Andre to look after you now?"

"I have my daughter, you sick bitch!"

"The mistake you have to look after instead of moving away from the chaotic City? Well, you're going to regret not going with your family now, aren't you?"

"She's _no _mistake! You won't touch her, you crazy, murdering twat! What happened to you?!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have bullied me, _then _I wouldn't have got stressed, which wouldn't have had to worsen my fucking head!"

"You should have got help for it then, shouldn't you?!"

"Help? Help from the doctors in this City who only worsened my father and fail to cure _anyone_! I don't think so, Kayley."

"Get _off _me!"

I chuckled. "Aw, starting to sound about ten again, aren't we?"

"Shut _up_!"

"In their last moments, people show you who they really are. Too true. You're not a badass bully after all, are you? All bullies are cowards. Just bring others down for their own pleasure."

"You're sick!"

"And you love it. Now, let's make this simple, shall we, Kayley?"

"No!" She started squirming uselessly. "Get _out_!"

"You know how stupid you sound right now, huh?" I laughed hysterically.

"Andre will be home soon and he'll rip your head off!"

I laughed even harder. "I'd like to see him try, Kayley. Unless he has a gun he has a pretty poor chance." She saw me glance quickly at Ruby the baby, and she held her tighter. "You'd do anything for her, wouldn't you?"

"I'd die for her," she idiotically confessed.

"Well, that makes my job a little easier. I don't have all fucking night, you know, Kayley. I wanna move on. The Joker let me loose, and I want to make the most of it."

"Are you out of your _mind_? Working for The _Joker_?"

"He's the only guy in this City who sees some sense. He's fair, you know. I only came to shoot you and get it over with, but look at me, having to _explain _myself to you. Get in there!"

"W-What?" she stammered.

"In _there_!" I commanded, pointing the gun towards the nearest door to my left, which I knew was the living room, as I could hear the television still blaring inside.

Kayley dashed inside, carrying the baby with her. I followed her, and shot a bullet at the television, immediately crushing it. Almost on cue, little Ruby started howling.

"Oh no, Ruby, Ruby…please…shh, shh…" Kayley cooed, black eyeliner tears now started to fall down her face. "It's okay, it's okay, baby girl…"

"What a wonderful parent, _lying _to her child," I mocked, chucking my gun to one side.

"Fuck _off_!" she roared.

"Calm down, so I can get this _done _with!" I shouted.

I unzipped my skirt pocket and quickly revealed my knife, throwing away the soft cover on the blade. Kayley gasped in pure horror when she saw it, keeping the screaming baby closer to her.

"_No_!" Kayley wept. "No…you…keep that thing _away_! You're _not _touching my baby!"

"Did I say I was going to?" I said, still smirking. "Put her down."

"No!"

"Put her down, Kayley." Kayley sobbed to her heart's content, as she kissed her baby's head several times, before lowering her back into her rocking seat, which was by the sofa. I immediately took my chance and grabbed her from around the back, holding her wrists behind her back and digging the knife in her throat with the other. I hadn't killed someone in this way, yet, but I was preparing to do it. Kayley's soul being crushed was sending that disturbing pleasure dance up my spine. "She _is _a beautiful little girl, Kayley, I have to say," I said, quietly. Kayley wriggled hard, but I kept her firmly in my grasp. "She look just like you."

"Please…please…don't hurt her, you won't touch my _child_!" Kayley screamed, as she tried to pull away.

"This is the toughest I've ever seen you," I giggled. "Must be a mother's blood. Shame my mother would never fight for me like that." Kayley sharply gasped as my knife dug into her throat more. "Now, Kayley…I won't hurt your baby. I could never do such a thing, but you _did _just say you'd die for your daughter."

"The…the reason for you killing me is stupid and you're _insane_!" Kayley yelled, still trying to escape from me, pointlessly. "I had _nothing _against you! I left you alone for so long! I don't deserve to be murdered like this! This is just an excuse for you to start killing!"

"I don't like people who try to break others," I murmured. "And you did."

"A_ long time _ago!" she barked.

"Don't you understand?!" I huffed. "They're telling me to do it. They're _telling _me to gain revenge for anyone responsible for breaking my mind…"

"And you honestly think _I'm _one of those people?!"

"The fire always comes back to me. Even today. I still see the flames. That's thanks to you."

"Let go of me, you twisted bitch!"

"Not gonna happen." I laughed along with the contagious laughter of my mind, and threw Kayley to the floor. "Better hope your fiancé is coming home soon," I sniggered. "Oh, Kayley. It's so nice when I victim gets revenge on a _bully_. This time I'm using a knife. You wanna know why?"

"No!"

"Because in a knife…you can see _everything _in the reflection…_all _the emotions that are going through the victim's face. With a gun…you can't see that. That's why it's important to use a knife on people who are worth it, ya see. Something I learned from The Joker."

I darted my head round and scowled at crying baby Ruby. Kayley had already leaped to her feet because of this and launched herself at me. I have to admit, she did startle me, as I stepped back, as she attempted to grab the knife off me. I waggled it in the air, out of her reach, just like she had done with my picture that day. I howled with laughter as I jumped around, holding the knife aloft out of her reach. Kayley kicked me, as she released a thunderous scream, but I just cackled harder and slapped her hard across the face, so hard in fact she became broken on the floor. I leaned over her and attempted to end it there and then, but she grabbed my arm and kept the knife away.

"You're _not _going to kill me," she grunted.

"Oh, I am, Lyons," I spat. "I am." We still remained in a tug of war as she surprisingly overpowered me for quite some time. "Just like old times, this, isn't it?" I groaned. "Just like the fights on the playground."

_Kill her! _they demanded. _Kill her!_

"Can't you see I'm trying?!" I snorted.

"What?" Kayley mumbled.

"I wasn't talking to you," I growled.

God, I _hated _people trying to test my strength.

But ultimately, of course, Jane won. Not Shaylee, Jane.

I guess she was now a fighting mother, which made her stronger, but I, was a raging revengeful princess of crime. My strength was much hungrier, as was my raging desire to kill the girl who started my whole mind off into insanity in the first place.

I pushed her hard onto her back, and the rush took over.

"_NO_!" Kayley's ear-splitting scream would he heard in the whole street. It certainly made baby Ruby scream louder.

Just like dad had ended my grandfather's life with a knife placed neatly under the ribs, I did exactly the same to the horrible little cowardly bully. I stuck it hard under ribs, taking in her chilling scream. I smiled as the blood dripped out, but the life did not leave her. I did it again. And again. And again. Sharply. Hearing her whimper and cry out for pointless help was like chiming wedding bells. The last stab was the most thrilling, as I yanked it out with a loud moan, and gazed at the smeared blood on the blade.

I dropped it on the floor, with a soft clatter. Kayley was certainly dead by now. I crawled over to where I had left my gun and grabbed it. My body was so infested with quivering adrenaline that I started to whoop around the large house, running into the kitchen and smashing their glass fruit bowl, screaming with laughter as I wrecked their entire house, smashing glass and putting bullets through all the smiling pictures. I smashed a bullet through the bathroom mirror and clawed off their shower curtain. I lay the precious knife in their sink to dry off, only then to continue trashing their house. It was a grand upper-class house, only reminding me I came from an 'underprivileged' background in the slums in Gotham Town. It was such a delicious feeling letting my insanity escape from me, through my psychotic screams when messing up their entire house, including making their bed sheets look like crashing sea waves, bashing out bullets at every angle so everything was smashed.

I didn't care anymore.

Once I'd had my fun, I returned downstairs to the roaring baby, and her teenage mother deceased on the carpet, the life literally drizzling out of her. I flopped onto the sofa and cackled loudly, still holding onto my gun. Putting it to one side, I calmed myself, and stared back at the crying baby. I couldn't help but feel just a miniscule of sympathy for the little shit. I sighed and kneeled down, lifting the featherweight baby from its little chair and bouncing it, playfully.

"Hey, hey, hey, come on…" I cooed, grinning at Ruby. "It's okay. Mommy's in a better place now." I cuddled Ruby and stroked her thick blonde locks she'd inherited from her mother. I sat back down on the sofa and rocked her. "Oh, oh…shh-hh-hh…come on, little Ruby. That _is _a nice name, I'll give Kayley that. Oh, poor little baby. You were born at the wrong time, Ruby. What with all this chaos happening at the moment. Goodness knows what kind of life you're going to have. But it's okay. You won't need to look back on your mother. Let's hope you don't grow up to be like her. Better growing up being a criminal, like me, than growing up to be a teenage mom who bullies the less fortunate."

I yawned loudly, shushing the baby, and rocking her gently, until I actually managed to quieten her completely. I very carefully placed her back into her seat and rocked her.

I sang a cruel lullaby, using my daintiest princess voice:

_'__Hush little baby, don't you cry_

_It's not your fault your mommy had to die_

_When daddy gets home he won't feel pain_

_Because he'll join your mom thanks to Princess Jane'_

I attempted to sound like a Disney Princess, but it came out more like someone from The Exorcist.

I found myself yawning continuously, and when I glanced up at the clock it read 00:52am. The insanity had worn me down for now. I prayed that the hero Andre would return soon for the shock of his life.

Thank goodness it turned out to be a mere fifteen minutes later. I heard the door slam and like an addiction clutched onto my gun and sat up.

"Kayley, Ruby, I'm home!" he called, cheerfully in the hallway, oblivious to the mess I'd made in the hallway.

I had to restrain myself from bursting into laughter because of this thick Italian accent, but to be honest, it sound kind of sexy, so I didn't mind.

He strolled in and halted immediately when he saw me, smirking widely at him. He started crying in two seconds flat upon seeing his fiancée's corpse.

"You must be Andre," I said, softly. "Kayley's fiancé?"

"What have you _done_ to her?!" he bellowed, marching over. We both heard Ruby start spluttering into cute little whines again, and Andre gasped, picking her up and holding her so close, like Kayley had done. "Ruby, my sweetheart, don't cry," he sobbed. "It's okay, daddy's here. Daddy will protect you."

His words made a spear tear my heart for a slight moment. How he held his daughter close, how he was protecting her and even though I'd never laid my eyes on this man before, I could feel the love explode from him. He glared at me, and started crying hysterically, the baby trembling in his arms.

I shook off my pathetic Shaylee side and rose abruptly to my feet, and loaded the gun to make Princess Jane return to my system.

"I'm not going to explain myself to you," I hissed. "I did enough of that with your woman. She put up a strong fight, I must say, but…alas…she failed."

"Who _are _you?" Andre whimpered. "What did you do to her?! Answer me, now!"

"Alright, calm down, I stabbed her, alright?" I said, callously. "I said she was unlucky you didn't come home sooner, Andre. Bet you regret staying out late, now, huh? But, uh…I said to myself I wouldn't waste time with you, as I wasted enough with her. And your baby is beautiful, but I'll out her out of misery instead of leaving her to grow up an _orphan _and possibly experience some _dreadful _things in her mind. Because I did, and part of the reason it got worse was because of your woman. So you can go see her in _hell_!"

I killed him in seconds flat with three flying bullets bouncing off of me. I didn't aim for the baby, but the precious little girl was shot dead, too, although I only realised when the room catapulted into silence. There was no baby cries anymore. Nothing. Only my head yelling, cheering, screaming instructions and comments at me.

I stood and stared at the victims for a while. Baby Ruby was still in her father's arms, even in death, but she looked like she was sleeping.

I despised this lovey feeling of guilt coming back to invade me again, so with a frustrated yell I shook my head until I was dizzy to make it vanish, and slumped back onto the sofa, still holding the gun in my gloved hand. I sighed several times, and tried to let Jane come back, because it was Shaylee who was feeling sympathy for the little baby, _not _Jane.

_Look what you've done, Shaylee, killed an innocent little baby __**and **__her parents. Bet you feel so in control and happy now._

_Jane, they are not worth it! _the demons said._ Kayley lied about having us. She's nothing but a little liar._

_Shaylee, you are better!_

_Princess Jane, don't feel ashamed. You're not crazy, you're just doing what's right. Revenge. Revenge is __**fair**__. You got rid of the girl who made your school life miserable._

_She didn't deserve it._

_She did deserve it._

"But she looks so peaceful," I whispered, gruffly. "But the baby…"

_Grow up, Princess Jane. Don't be a pathetic weakling_.

"I'm not."

_The Joker won't be happy if he find out you feel a little __**sorry **__for some little crying shit._

"Oh…shut _up_!"

_He'll surely kill you_.

"No he won't," I groaned. "I don't need this shit…just go away…go _away_…" I lay down comfortably on the sofa. "Sleep…sleep will make you _fuck off_…" I closed my eyes and dropped the gun onto the floor. I was so glad Kayley had nice heating in her house.

I nestled on the sofa, holding onto my head as I made the Devil disappear. He eventually did, but only when I fell asleep. I fell asleep in the room with the people I had just killed, even their rotting bodies' smell didn't wake me up. No one was going to come and find me, because nobody knew I was here.

That was, until I was woken by my cell phone loudly vibrating in my pocket. I almost leaped out of the window in alarm, writhing around like a snake, and with a low groan, I slowly got out Harley's cell phone, blinded by the phone's light. Thankfully, it was still ringing and playing the Psycho theme tune which just made it more irritating.

I carefully rubbed my weary eyes and read 'Mister J calling.' I chuckled and answered the phone straight away.

"Her Royal Highness Princess Jane Price, Clown Princess of Crime," I greeted, cheerily, although I felt I could automatically fall back into a slumber.

"Uh, hi…Jane," came a baritone teenage boy voice.

"Chase?" I spluttered. "Chase, why are _you_ calling me? I thought this would be The Joker."

"Nah, he, uh…he _asked _me to ring you," he mumbled.

"Oh, anyway, what's the problem? It's…" I glanced up at the grandpa clock. "It's eight in the morning, I've barely slept."

"Ask her where she is," I heard The Joker instruct faintly.

"Uh…where are you?" Chase questioned.

"I'm in a house on Knight Road," I replied. "Killed a few people last night and early this morning, I…uh…it was…nice. Why? Am I needed or something?"

"No, no…at least I don't think so," Chase said. He sounded disturbingly calm, compared to the mess he was the day before.

"Where are _you_?" I asked, curiously, now leaning back on the sofa, more comfortably.

"We're just about to leave my dad's house," Chase explained. "Joker wants us lot to go out on a little 'expedition', so he says."

"What expedition?" I inquired.

"Alright, alright, give me the phone, Chasey," The Joker muttered. I laughed as the phone went out of control for a few moments. "Hello there, your highness," Joker said, cheerfully. "Nice to know you're _up _to early."

"The phone ringing woke me up, actually," I said.

"What ya got up to, my little one? Hmm?"

"Just…uh…killed a few people, you know?"

"Who?"

"Remember that Kayley Lyons?"

"Ahh…the selfish little _brat _who caused you to have a breakdown, huh?"

"That's the one."

"You killed _her_, did you?"

"Yeah, her, her fiancé _and _her baby."

"Weapon of choice?"

"Knife, of course."

The Joker sniggered. "Did you enjoy it, huh?"

"Of course I did, my mind was _racing_! I trashed the place after I killed her!"

Joker cackled insanely. "My, my, my…you _are _getting worse and worse, aren't you, princess?"

"Hey, I'm only doing what I set out to do, and that was to kill the people I _hate_. The people who were responsible for weakening me."

"In that case, you better kill the whole City!"

"What? Joker…"

"Shh! Now, listen. The boys and…Harley and myself…we're goin' on a little trip in a minute or so, but I wanted your precious Chase to let you know what's coming up for you."

"Well…isn't he going to tell me?"

"No. _I _am. Chase is busy helping his daddy. Guess what, Princess Jane?"

"What?"

"Our little video made it onto air this morning."

"Oh yeah?"

"Good old commissioner Gordon is no doubt on your tracks right now, _and _The Batman will."

"Did they say that on the news or something?"

"The stupid anchor said the police will be immediately informed about, and I quote, 'this madwoman'." I squealed, happily. "Don't get too excited. There's no turning back now, Jane. This is it. Gotham knows you now. Now, do you remember what I said last night? If you get caught–"

"Let 'em take me in," I finished.

"Good girl. Stay on your toes though, pretty face. If they want information on me, you can tell 'em _all _you _know_. All you _know_. Hmm? Just be honest with 'em. Then…they'll know _everything _they need to know. All they'll want from you is information. You give it to 'em."

"That's clear. Yeah, I _would _tell them to truth, anyway. I wouldn't sit there and _lie_. They need to know everything of what I'm going to do."

"By the way, this puppy of yours will be stayin' here."

"Oh thank you!"

"We'll just be going on a little spree. You leave it to me, okay?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Anymore, uh…_plans _to kill a particular person today, Jane?"

I nodded and smacked my lips. "I have a few people in mind."

"Leave a mark."

"A mark?"

"Ya know…like _I _do."

"You mean like a joker card?"

"People in this City should _smile _more, beautiful. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind." He giggled deviously, making me crack up, too. "_I _show 'em to how _smile _the _hard _way…you know what I mean?"

"The scars."

"Just leave that word lingerin' on. Scars. Make a _mark_, that is, uh…_different _to mine. So they know your victims' killer is _not _me. You don't live in my shadow, do you, little girl?"

"No."

"You'll think of something. I looked at my _damaged _self to leave an infamous mark on the citizens who had displeasure of coming face to face with me. Hmm? Look what I did to 'em."

"Yes, sir," I chuckled.

"So, Jane. Don't look back now. Gotham is aware of your name. Take it. Stay on your toes and remember what I said to ya. Is that clear, sweetheart?"

"Perfectly clear."

"Oh and you might wanna hurry up, because we'll be headin' off as soon as I put this phone down."

I slumped up to my feet, and stepped over the victims I had killed. I didn't even get the chance to reply because I heard Joker handing over the phone to someone else.

"Just make sure you're okay!" Chase said.

"Chase, really? I'm fine. If I get hurt, it'll only be battle marks."

"Yeah!"

"Are you okay, Chase?"

"I'm fine!" he exclaimed, enthusiastically.

My heart missed at least two beats. "Chase…what's happened to _you_?" I asked, grinning.

"Nothing, I'm fine, I'm just making sure you're okay!" he squealed.

"Well, yeah, I'm…I'm on top form," I laughed. Chase cheered wildly, and I heard the other thugs cheering in the background. "Oh God, what has he done to you Chase?"

"Nothing! We gotta _go-ooh_, see ya later, tiger!" Chase cried.

"Uhh…bye!" I chuckled.

I quickly ended the call and stared curiously into space for a few moments. I laughed and shook it off quickly, then making my way into Kayley's bathroom, where my blood-smeared blade was still laying peacefully. As I washed it off a bit more, I couldn't help but wonder what had come over Chase. He suddenly seemed happy, enthusiastic about what was doing. His voice had gone slurred like he was drunk, but I quickly presumed he may have just been high off marijuana after all. To me, it certainly sounded like he'd been drugged, but I couldn't be sure. He couldn't have been brainwashed _that _quickly, could he?

Once my knife had been washed and I could picture my clown-sketched face in it, I slowly headed back into their living room, where they were still dying serenely, in the same positions.

_Leave a mark_.

Whoa, how come the voices come so quickly all of a sudden?

They appeared to be a driving force now, commanding me at every given moment. Plus, they just came out of nowhere, not even when I was feeling stressed or had an adrenaline rush from killing.

_Leave a mark_, they whispered again.

I remembered what The Joker had said: he looked at himself for damaged self, and that helped him decide upon his victims' mark. I had but one little scar on my shoulder from that horrendous day I was shot in the arm. The Joker's Glasgow smile was sort of unnoticeable and recognisable, my scar was surely not the first thing people looked at when they came face to face with Princess Jane.

Although the more I thought about it, my scar was pretty huge. It was the ugliest thing about me, trailing all the way down to my shoulder where it ended on my arm, and ever since I abandoned my purple jacket, my scar has been exposed to the light. If I left a huge, ugly scar like my own on my victims' left shoulders, maybe the citizens would realise I was the killer. Funnily enough, when I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes never failed to glance towards the scar, and the horrific memories that were packed with it.

Maybe I could transform those dreadful memories into better ones, by using them on my poor, defenceless victims.

I glared down at Kayley first.

Thank goodness she had been wearing a tank top, so I could leave my mark easily on her first. Touching a decaying dead body didn't bother me anymore, so I raised my knife and outlined my scar on Kayley's shoulder. Of course, I exaggerated a little, making it larger than my own. It was almost like I was splitting her skin in half, piercing her shoulder into two parts. Blood still managed to come flooding out, but I sharply rubbed it away with my gloves. For a first try, it didn't look half bad.

I did the same on Andre's left shoulder, carefully carving his skin until his scar looked like my own. His skin seemed much thicker, which made it a lot more pleasurable for me. As for the baby, well, I could have easily done it to her, but if I carved up a baby's shoulder I could have easily slipped and carved her whole body. I wasn't that disgusting. I know I'm extremely vile, but I wouldn't do that.

With an uplifting rush making me awake, I headed out of Kayley's house and slammed the door, happily, with my knife now back in my pocket and yielding my gun. I inhaled a huge dose of fresh air and grinned at the new day before me. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the cab driver I had murdered was still remarkably there parked outside. I dashed out of the estate before anyone noticed me, and I made my way to the nearest bus station fifteen minutes away, near the town centre, where I found a cute little abandoned corner, where I could make my next phone call in peace.

I slid down the wall, and I was completely covered by the darkness of the corner I was buried in. I curled up into a ball and quickly dialled the number if my next victim. I knew the number by heart as I had met this person many times.

He picked up the phone after multiple rings, but I remained smirking the whole time, my mind telling me to kill already.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jason," I said, sweetly.

"Who is this?"

"It's Jane." I smacked my hand over my mouth and sniggered into my mouth.

"Who?"

"It's _Shaylee_," I corrected. "Shaylee."

"Oh god, what do _you_ want?" Jason snapped.

"Hey, no need to speak to me like _that_," I laughed.

"Shaylee, what do you want? Why you calling me?"

"You know, Jason, I've been thinking about when we were in school. You know how we were so close and we did almost everything together? I miss those days."

Jason burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you think I'm gonna fall for that one?"

"What? All I'm saying is I miss those days."

"Well, I miss those days, too, but we can never go back to that."

"Why not?"

"Why are you just ringing me about this anyway? After what you did to Alex, do you think I want to speak to you again?"

"That was two years ago! I haven't even seen you since! Are you out with Alex now, Jason?"

"No! I'm at home, staying safe from all this shit that's going on in this City at the moment!"

"Did you see the news this morning?"

"Of course I did, this chick that's working with The Joker looks like a complete pushover! Probably not even that threatening. She's just a crazy fan girl by my standards."

"Oh you think so?"

"Don't know why the police are looking for her, I'd be looking out for The Joker now he's escaped. It's a joke."

"Life _is _nothing but a joke, Jason. Shouldn't underestimate this Princess Jane, though. That could be, uh…that could be foolish."

"Don't make me laugh, Shaylee."

"Why so serious, Jason?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Oh, you think you're such a badass. Here you are, giving it large to me when I was prepared to try and reconcile our friendship."

"Weird how you've just suddenly decided to make up now, isn't it?"

"Well with all the _madness _and _atrocity _going on in this City at the moment, I've needed someone."

"Can't you just run to Chase? Or has he seen the light and dumped you yet?"

"He dumped me ages ago."

"Oh. Well, anyway, I don't _want _to see you, Shaylee. You stabbed Alex, remember? You went to jail for it?"

"Yeah, but…that's in the past. I no longer think about the past. It's all about looking into the future."

"Something's wrong with you."

"I'm no crazy, you know, Jason."

"You say that every time, but you need to realise that there is actually something wrong with you."

"Something _so wrong _in fact, that I don't deserve the right to live, huh?"

"Hey, come on, I never said _that_."

"Ah-ha! You see? If you didn't give a shit about me you wouldn't care if I lived or died."

"I don't, to be honest."

"Ooh, _now _we're getting somewhere!"

"Fuck off, Shaylee."

"Come on, Jason. Be a man. Come and do it yourself."

"_What_?!"

"Come and finish me off, then, big man."

"What's the point?"

"The point is, my _friend_, is that you'll show just _how _much of a bad man you really are, huh?"

"Shaylee, I'm not going to come out there and kill you. I'm not that _low _to do that."

"Meet me, at least."

"For a fight?"

"I can deal with that."

"Alright. Where?"

"Knight Road, you know in the posh estate where Kayley Lyons lives? Meet me in that road. Bring Alex with you, if you want."

"Fine."

"All I wanted to do was to be friends again, yet I have to ask you to a fight."

"What _for_, anyway?"

"You can beat me up for what I did to Alex, hmm? Kinda like in revenge. Because revenge is _fair_, Jason."

"After that, I never want to see you again, you got it? If you I see you again, you will get hurt, you crazy little bitch."

"Threatening now, are we?"

"Shut up."

"Alright then, Jason."

"You know I really don't want to do this."

"Scared, are we?"

"Scared of _you_? Don't make me laugh!"

"And don't worry about seeing me again after this little fight of your revenge. You _won't _be seeing me ever again. I guarantee it. And be careful on your way down here. Don't want The Joker to carve you up, do we?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"See ya in a minute, sweetie! And don't be late, otherwise you're _dead_!"

He ended the call even before I finished my last sentence. Oh, how he would regret that.

That was certainly the strangest phone conversation I'd ever had. Jason was such an asshole, you can see why I hated him, can't you? Once a cool friend, but was never there for me when I suffered from depression and anxiety. That wasn't my fault. Jason and Alex were both people I just wanted out of the way, so I decided they should be my next victims. This was very bizarre how my daily routine now consisted of killing people.

Actually, no. It consisted on gaining revenge, remember? Like Joker said, you have to be cruel to be kind

I prayed that my feet could make me fly back to Knight Road as soon as I could, but my unimpressive stamina let me down. Running with a heavy gun is not recommended, especially wearing high heels. You have to go through an alleyway as a shortcut to get back on the estate, and I almost collapsed from exhaustion as I had been running so fast. The fact the day was blazing hot didn't help either. I panted wildly, leaning on the wall for a few minutes, as I knew no one would find me here, so I could relax for a while.

_You should really work on your stamina, Jane. Don't wanna be weak now, do you?_

"Shut up," I hissed.

_Don't wanna be that pathetic, worthless little rape victim._

"Shut up! _No_!" I yelled.

_It'll come back to you __**forever**__._

"Shut up! Stop…please, just shut up!" I cried, hysterically.

Fuck. I was turning into Shaylee again.

Until I swear I felt a shadow loom over my head, making my head snap up instantly. I gripped my gun tightly, preparing myself. Jane came back in an instant.

_Watch out, Jane_.

"Go fuck yourself," I cursed, quietly. I continued looking around, highly suspicious. There was nothing around but large walls and bushes, the walls being much too high to climb, unless you were an expert. I gasped when I heard something swoosh behind me, and I wheeled around, pointing the gun at what turned out to be an empty space. I looked all around me, but saw nothing. "Who's there?" I demanded. "Come on…don't be shy. I don't bite. A princess is always sweet and kind, isn't she?" Another shadow leaped over my head and I pointed the gun at nothing again when I turned around. I chortled, playfully. "Come on!" I beckoned.

"Price!" a gruff voice suddenly bellowed behind me.

I almost fell over, darting around to face the behind me again. My dark eyes got a shocking surprise to see the caped crusader himself before me, dressed in the full black bat suit and his identity completely covered with his ridiculous mask. I beamed widely, giggling like a maniac all of a sudden at his presence. Batman was glaring at me, but he didn't move. His cape danced slightly in the tiny breeze. I lowered my gun, as I knew it was pointless to threaten him, as he refused to kill anybody.

"Batman!" I gasped, flopping my arms beside me, before placing my free one on my hip. "What a pleasant surprise this is! I am _so _excited to see you!"

"Don't be too excited, Price, we know all about you," he said, trying to sound intimidating in his gravelly voice.

"My god, you have a stupid voice," I snickered, my own sickly sweet voice returning. The adrenaline had obviously kicked in. "And who's _we_? Who knows all about me?"

"The whole of Gotham," Batman replied.

"Ah, I am _so _glad they know!" I squealed. "Let me guess, you saw the video? So you know about Harley Quinn, too?"

"Quinn is not our main concern, she's the kind of person The Joker attracts. We know of Quinn's past brutality."

"Yeah, that didn't even _do _much," I scoffed. "What brings you here, anyway, Bats? I thought you only came out at night time. You must be so hot in that suit!"

"Investigating The Joker's whereabouts," he answered.

"Ah, and what a coincidence you just happened to bump into me, huh? Oh man. Well, if you wanna know where he is I'm not your girl to ask, I'm afraid. If you watched the video, maybe you would know he let me loose–"

"Where is he?"

"Oh man, is this _really _the time or place to interrogate me, Batman? I kinda have somewhere I need to _be _right now."

He growled and suddenly towered above me, but I just remained smiling at him.

"What are you trying to prove by joining a psychopath?" he grunted. "We know for sure he has brainwashed you with some sort of drugs."

I spluttered into nasty cackles.

"_Drugged_ me? Are you serious?" I laughed. "Come on, Bats! Do I look like I'm on drugs to you?"

"Tell me, now!" he ordered.

"I would if there were any drugs involved, but there ain't Batman!" I chuckled. "Just me and my intelligent mind!" It was hard to tell his expression through the mask, but I could feel his frustration leaping from him. "It's been a pleasure seeing you Batman, but, uh…I have somewhere I need to be right now."

"Where?!" he questioned.

I thought the logical thing to do was not to tell him, but then I remembered, The Joker said if they caught me, then I should be taken into Arkham. Batman spotting me and interrogating me in this alleyway was sort of being caught, wasn't it? I had a major instinct in my bones that Joker's plan was for me to get caught, because I knew he was using me for his own slimy ideas. We had a connection, I knew exactly what he was planning without him fully explaining it to me. It's a father daughter thing, I guess.

"Knight Road," I answered. "Been a lot happening on that street recently." I winked at him.

"Like what?" Batman asked.

"All you do is ask questions, isn't it, Batman? Just been a lot of _chaos_ on that street. Now. If you'll excuse me."

I started to skip away, my energy now fully loaded.

"The people are fighting against you, not with you," Batman finally said.

"The Joker's _proving a point_," I retorted. "So just take off that mask–" I turned back around, only to discover he had gone in an instant. I just huffed and continued walking at his strange disappearance. "What a weirdo," I muttered to myself.

I wondered why The Batman had just decided to make an appearance. They said on the news that he was no more, that they even smashed up his large signal light. Plus, he never came out in the daytime. I liked to think my appearance on this video tape had frightened Batman into coming back, especially to stop The Joker again. Batman was not mine to deal with, anyway. He was a threat to ruin things for me, because he's one of those people who judges and thinks all criminals are scum, but in no way was he superior to me. It didn't matter that I was a seventeen year old girl, he wouldn't kill me if I was thirty year old male. The Joker only wanted Batman to turn himself in, and if he was that much of a hero, he would have done it by now. He's nothing but a coward. Joker was right. Gotham _is_ full of cowards.

I made my way back to Knight Road, as quickly as I could, dragging my heels across the concrete. If someone questioned me or tried to stop me, because I tell you now, some people did recognise me off the TV, I just shot them dead. That made everyone leave me alone. It made them realise I wasn't a girl to come across. I was a co-agent of chaos, and I didn't care.

I was expecting to have to wait for Jason and Alex to turn up, but to my astonishment, they were already there, right at the end of the road, where there is a dead end. I sauntered towards what turned out to be more than just the two boys. I quickly realised that my old friend Tom was there as well.

"Ah, you made it early, so lovely," I giggled. They shot their heads in my direction. Jason grabbed onto Alex, looking hilariously alarmed. Tom became open-mouthed, and Alex wouldn't stop staring at my gun. "Did you actually believe I'd come unprepared?" I questioned. "You three must all be idiots, especially you, Jason, for agreeing to meet with me."

By now, I had come into the sunlight, where my clown-face, golden tiara and criminal beauty appearance was now exposed.

"Oh my god, you're having us on?" Jason stuttered. "You're–"

"Isn't that the psycho girl who was on GCN this morning in that vile video message?" Tom asked.

"That's me," I squeaked. "Princess Jane Price."

"So…Shaylee…you turned out to be this crazy bitch all along?" Jason stammered.

"My name isn't Shaylee anymore," I said, slowly. "And I'm not crazy. You must be the crazy ones for deciding to come out here." I carefully raised my gun towards them. "You were so keen to get in a fight, weren't you? Prepared to beat up little innocent Shaylee because she stabbed Alex, hmm? Well, look at the three of you now. Not so tough, after all, are you?"

I noticed my arms were shaking hard from adrenaline. I chortled, cruelly, as I loaded the gun, making them all jump.

"Put the gun down!" Jason shouted. "You can't just shoot us!"

"Why not?" I asked, flicking my head to one side, pretending to be in wonder.

"Are you just going to shoot us for no reason?" Tom asked, backing up.

"Oh no, no, no…not for _no reason_, Tom," I said, cunningly. "You see, working with The Joker means you have to do _everything _for a reason. He asked me what I believed in, and I said revenge."

"You stupid bitch!" Alex piped up. "Revenge for what?! We've done _nothing _to you!"

"You've done a lot more than you think," I hissed.

Alex foolishly walked up towards me.

"You're so pathetic, coming out here pretending to be that loony off the news, that Princess Jane–"

"I _am _Princess Jane." I warningly dug the gun into his chest, halting him in his tracks. I raised my eyebrows. "The real one, and I mean business. Don't be a fool, Alex," I warned.

"Have you heard this, boys?!" he called over his shoulder. "Look at Shaylee, pretending to be such a badass, coming to threaten us with a gun that she probably got off her dead daddy…"

"Don't be a _fool_," I said again.

"Thinks she's so hard, thinks she can threaten us! Stupid crazy cunt, you wouldn't _shoot _us! Plus, you have no _reason _to! You're not _that _crazy you wouldn't just _shoot _us for no reason! We haven't even done anything to do."

"You've done a lot to me."

"Oh yeah? Come on, then, bitch, _shoot _me. If you're that serious, then shoot me."

"I said don't be a _fool_."

"See?! I told you she wouldn't have the guts to straight up shoot one of us!"

I pulled the trigger on cue, and the bullet crushed through Alex, cutting off his immature sniggering, and he immediately fell dead at me feet. I stepped over him and walked closer to Jason and Tom, who by now were looking more petrified then they thought they would.

"I did warn him," I sighed. "But no one listens to women, do they?" I licked my bottom lip with concentration. "Now, boys, you're either going see some sense, or _die_."

"Shaylee…I…I don't understand…" Tom fumbled. "Why are you being like this? You're _better_ than this!"

"Am I? Am I really?"

"Why are you _doing _this?!"

"Hurting the people that _made _me this way!" I yelled. "The people who doubted me, told me I was crazy, when I'm _not_. Just abandoned me and was never there for me when I went through the most awful two years of my life after losing my dad! I lost everything. Including my friends…and _Chase_. I've been beaten down…I was _raped_…and I can still feel the pain…I can still see his face…my body still feels demolished like it was…I'm just trying to get my strength back after going through something like _that_."

"You were _raped_?" Tom asked, sounding shocked.

"Indeed, Tom," I said.

"By The Joker?"

"No!" I burst out laughing. "Oh no, _never_. One of his sexist pig thugs. But I killed him afterwards. Gave me a good lift, it was _marvellous_. Made me realise I need to be tougher than I actually was. Made me realise…I need to _be strong _and _forget _about everything in the past. Just to, uh…put the past behind me for _good_. _Everything _in my past."

"And you think the way to regain everything you lost is by killing people?" Jason asked, angrily.

"Nah. Just getting rid of 'em. Then I can get them out of my fucked up head for good." I re-loaded the gun. "So…regret not being there for me now?"

"So you're blaming _us _for making you this way?!" Jason exclaimed.

"Partly," I answered, nodding my head.

"Shaylee, you _lied _to me!" he shouted.

"I _lied_?!"

"You said you were coming up for a fight, instead you come up to murder us!"

"You shouldn't have been so eager to come down and beat up a girl then, shouldn't you? That makes you just as sick as _I _am!"

"Shaylee, please…just…"

"Shaylee's _dead_! Dead!" I screamed.

"Please, just put the gun down and–" Tom began

"Showing your true colours now, aren't you, you pair of silly little boys!" I interrupted. "Hah! You see, this is _just _what The Joker was talking about! People put up a front to show themselves as heroes, when inside, they're nothing but broken, _pathetic _little cowards. Like you, who would happily beat up a girl! Scum."

"We're _scum_?!" Jason cried. "Look at yourself!"

"I'm not scum. I work for the highest class of a criminal. A criminal who kills other criminals. Not for money, not for power, but for _much better _reasons than that. You wait and see boys, when things get too much in this City, the citizens will _all _start to kill one another out of their own madness…this is what The Joker has proved. He's showing it through _me_, isn't he? I'm a citizen whose madness has been triggered just _slightly_…"

"Slightly?!" Jason spluttered.

"Shut up!" I then watched both of their expressions look exactly the same as they gazed in the same direction behind me. "What?" I snapped, before turning around myself. That's when the noise finally overpowered my mind. I could hear sirens whirling loudly, and before I knew it I saw two police cars and a van pull up behind me. "Shit," I muttered, under my breath. I scowled back at the two boys. "Don't you even think about moving anywhere," I snarled. "If you move, you're both dead."

"Jane Price, we have you surrounded!" a cop yelled.

"Back off, or I will shoot both of them!" I threatened. "Just like I did to _that one_." I nodded towards Alex's dead body.

I then felt many cops surrounding me, and as I glanced over to my right side, I saw Commissioner Gordon himself stand by me, holding his hands up. Many cops were armed with guns, but that didn't make my heart speed up at all. It didn't even reel my head further.

"Price, put the gun down, _now_," Gordon instructed.

"What makes you think you're going to _stop me_, huh?" I laughed.

"Did you hear the Commissioner?" another cop said. "Put the gun down and let them go, you hear?"

"I came here to do a _task_," I murmured. I sighed heavily and crumpled my eyes in frustration. I was becoming Shaylee again. Fuck you, ADHD. "How did you lot find me, anyway?!" I demanded.

"We were informed madness was happening on Knight Road," Gordon answered.

I noticed that the sun was being blocked by a shadow above my head, and I cautiously looked up, to see The Batman was gazing down upon the scene from the nearest rooftop.

"Batman," I mumbled, full of hatred. I raised my voice. "Did the Batman tell you where I was?"

"That's not the point, we _know _you're responsible for the death of Bradley Ingham," Gordon stated.

"So what? The Joker's responsible for killing much more than that. Funny isn't it? As soon as a teenage girl kills someone this whole City goes nuts about it, when The Joker kills a few more victims, nobody seems to give a damn because _that's _just what The Joker does!"

"Jane Price, you have the right to remain silent," they told me.

"No I don't!" I cried. "People need to hear my voice!"

"Silence, girl," a cop commanded.

"Commissioner, permission to shoot?" another enquired.

"_What_?" I stammered. "You sound like you're in the army! You're a cop, for crying out loud! You can't just _shoot _me!"

"Quiet, Price!" Gordon shouted.

"It's _Princess _Jane Price. Hence, the crown?" I huffed.

"Whatever," Gordon said. "No, don't shoot her. That's an order. She may have information on The Joker. We need her as evidence." I smirked deviously, even managed to giggle a little. "Price, we won't ask you again, put the gun down, you are under arrest!"

"Funny, because you _did _just ask again, didn't you?" I chortled, my insane princess voice finally choosing to come out.

It was because my adrenaline had reached 100% now. The control over myself had been destroyed, and now it was up to my good old Princess Jane self to take over for good.

I smirked as I glared at everyone around me for a few seconds, including up ahead to Batman himself. To them, it was complete intense silence, but to me, I could hear a million different things talking to me.

Mom's scream invaded my mind, followed by a fake gunshot.

Why not have the real thing?

I cackled with my infectious brain as I triggered two bullets and shot Jason and Tom, aimed wonderfully.

_Upset the establish order, and every sweet little thing turns into chaos._

That all came true. As soon as I killed Jason and Tom, the cops immediately paraded around, each one of them trying to grab me. Some of them ran back into the vehicles, with my squealing abuse at them. The commotion was so uplifting, I didn't care about the fact they were all trying to drag me between them. One snatched my gun and I saw it being taken away from me. I continued laughing maniacally as they emptied my skirt pockets, restraining me by holding my wrists behind my back. I nearly felt tears I was laughing so hard. My hands were then forced in front of me as the Commissioner slapped handcuffs around my wrists.

"Get this vile bitch in the van, to Arkham Asylum," he instructed the cops behind me.

"You can't call me that!" I shrieked, still laughing hysterically. I was now being dragged into one of the police cars, but I was kicking furiously. "I'm just doing my job! You can't arrest me for doing my _job_!" I guffawed as I was pushed into the back of the car.

"Shut up, you're going to Arkham," the driver snapped.

"Oh, my _home_!" I chimed. "Not again! Hang on, hang on…hey commissioner!" The door was slammed in my face. "Thanks for saving my life, you stupid cunt!"

"Gordon, what are the other cops doing?" one of the cops asked, through a walkie-talkie.

"We're investigating what's happened on this street, while disposing the bodies of these poor boys," Gordon replied, on loudspeaker. "Take so-called Princess Jane to Arkham, while we clean up the horror that's happened here."

"They're not innocent, commissioner!" I cried out.

"Shut up!" one of the cops snapped at me.

"Charming!" I giggled. "No way to speak to a princess. You're only speaking to me that way because I'm considered scum! You _are_!"

"You _are _scum, you're nothing but a vile thug," the driver said. "Now be quiet."

I slumped in my seat and bit my bottom lip hard to keep in my laughter, as I was being driven off to Arkham.

I was grinning at the cops the whole time on the journey, as I knew this is what The Joker wanted. I was curious to what he was planning, what he was doing right at that moment.

Thank you, Batman.

It was a dreadful shame they had dragged me into the car so quickly I couldn't even make my newly created mark on my victims' shoulders.


	20. The Interrogation

_**A short chapter with deep content. **_

_**Not really any violence or mature content in this, but a lot of talking. A lot. But sometimes dialogue chapters are needed. So nothing really to warn you for, except the ending might be a bit disturbing.**_

_**Hope you enjoy one my favourite chapters I've written so far ;) Please leave reviews!**_

* * *

**Chapter 19 - The Interrogation**

_She heard the orders that had been crushed upon her._

_'__You will do this for me, Jane.'_

_By now, Jane had been forced to shoot two innocent children, even with Moskins steadying her arm with the gun. She had no choice, or the punishment would come to life: rape._

_Moskins was a heartless man. Jane had never believed no one in this world could not burst love in their hearts, but Moskins had proved her poor mind wrong. He felt nothing for her. He used her, beat her, forced her to inhale the vile stench of cocaine, as well as taking advantage of her feeble body to rape her. Innocent Jane Price didn't know what to do anymore. Every night, the thoughts of her father were stapled in her mind, making her eyes becomes a cascading watery avalanche. Thomas Price was already on a search to find his helpless sixteen year old daughter._

_Moskins has slowly been drilling the madness into her intellectual brain. One day, she would be all his. She would be his to do his sinister deeds and pleasure his every whim. _

_Jane didn't want him. She wanted James, the college dropout._

_That day came when they encountered each other again after many weeks of not laying their eyes on each other. Unfortunately, Jane was yielding a gun on Moskins's orders, forcing Jane to mug the innocent on the streets._

_Although, rather disturbingly, she did feel the power of being superior._

_'__Jane!' James had cried. 'What on earth are you doing?!'_

_Jane could barely see him through her blurred vision, due to the waterfalls in her eyes._

_'__James, I'm sorry!' she sobbed. 'I don't want to do this! Really I don't! Please don't…'_

_'__Jane, why aren't you with your father?'_

_'__I…I can't tell you.'_

_'__Why ever not?'_

_'__I have to follow orders. Be sadistic. A terrible person. To stop this hell. Or he's going to kill me.'_

It's nice to think back on the things you had created when you were behind bars. That part was one the last things I wrote before I became the vile Princess Jane. I had thought about my story when I had been in jail previously.

Although I had become the character I had created, the only real similarity to the Jane I had become and the Jane I had created in my story, was the name. I thought somewhere in my creative mind I'd made Jane Price a girl kind of like Shaylee Napier, but thinking about it, in that moment behind the thick bars of my cell in Arkham, the monster I had crawled into the skin of was not the sympathetic character I'd created at all. Partly because no one ever would feel sympathy for the murderous Princess Jane. Not one ounce of it.

Even being in a mental asylum was still nothing but chaos. I wasn't even thrown into a women's department. I was hauled in with a load of wretched men, not one of them having the decency to shut up. The noises around me flared up until it became just as load as my whirling head. There were cops patrolling every corner, so there was not a prayer of escaping, not that I was about to make a move anyway.

I sat there with my arms folded, glaring at everything around me, searching for prey like a lioness. The one man in the cell with me (I'm not sure why they put me in with a middle-aged insane criminal for someone my age, but never mind) was slouching on the seat opposite, unbearably licking the piercing on his bottom lip. He smiled at me, looking almost lustful. I despised the lustful look ever since Theo had shown me it in his dark eyes, on the day I fully lost my mind.

"What are you looking at, hmm?" I questioned the man, fiercely.

"Nothin' gorgeous," he chuckled, in the huskiest accented voice I'd ever heard. Clearly the guy was crazy. "Just, ah…think you 'ave a smashin' pair of legs."

I lifted my eyebrows with such a comment.

"Oh well, thank you," I said. "Nothing special underneath these leggings, ya know, though."

"I'm sure that ain't true," he said. "So, what's a pretty thing like you doin' in a place for old men like us?"

"I killed somebody," I answered, blankly.

"Naughty girl," he laughed.

"Not really, pal, they deserved it," I explained, starting to grin.

He started edging closer towards me, not I didn't even flinch. Not a lot startled me anymore.

"So what's wrong with you, then?" he wanted to know.

"Nothing's wrong with me."

"Me neither. Guess e'erybody 'ere's got nothin' wrong with them."

"Everybody here is _misunderstood_."

"You're a smart chick." He started stroking my leg, seductively. "Especially for such a little girl."

"I'm seventeen. I'm not little."

"Ah, bu' a girl your age shouldn't be…_killin' _people."

"Why, does that turn you _on_ or something?" I chuckled. "Filthy cunt, _you _are."

He growled.

"Hey, you!" a cop suddenly shouted, spotting us.

"Please, officer!" the cellmate pleased, suddenly sounding frenetic. He obviously had a severe case of bipolar, much worse than mine. "I ain't had it for _so long_!"

"You're disgusting, pal, move him out!" the cop ordered to another, the other side of the room.

Like lightening, a cop burst into our cell and started tugging the guy out. Like a little toddler, the guy kicked and yelled while being dragged out by the strong cop. I couldn't help but laugh at this amusing display of failure.

As the door of the cell shut, I ran up to the door and poked my head out, calling after him, "Call me, sweetie! I've fucked fourteen guys and _counting_!"

"Shut up and get back, you maniac!" a cop yelled at me, not even bothering to threaten me backwards with a weapon.

"I have a _name_, actually," I said, importantly, exploding into giggles. I simply refused to move from the barred door.

"Commissioner Gordon will be here soon for your interrogation," he informed me.

"Oh, great, why does it have to be _him_?" I complained. "And besides, don't I get any food or something? I'm _starving_!"

"No!" he snapped.

"Heartless pig," I muttered.

It wasn't long before Gordon himself came into the room of the long line of cells, looking so smug it made my blood boil.

"Gordon, have we had any other information on The Joker?" someone who looked important asked him.

"Unfortunately not," he answered. I grinned cunningly. "We couldn't make out the location on the video with…Princess Jane over there." I gave them a little wave and giggled maliciously, to which they responded by simply scowling at me. "I'm hoping to get information on The Joker from her."

"Do we know this girl's real identity?" someone else cut in.

"It's too early doors for that," Gordon replied. "Obviously the girl is in such mental distress like no young woman I've ever seen. All we got from her when she was admitted in was a simple handgun, a switch-blade knife, a purse and a cell phone. Nothing more."

"What about her DNA?"

"We're hoping to investigate that."

"Do you think this girl could be _related_ to The Joker, Gordon?"

My grin vanished. I felt my heart miss several beats.

"I told you, we cannot be sure," Gordon said. "We only know the girl's alias at the moment. With a further interrogation we may get somewhere into getting rid of The Joker."

"If she's anything like The Joker, she'll twist everything and you won't get solid information," someone pointed out. "If she's learnt anything from him, it'll to be manipulative."

"She's here for the murders she's committed," Gordon stated. "She can at least answer for _that_."

Gordon then cautiously looked at me, but I just gave him a devious smile. After all, all would be revealed in the interrogation room.

I was pushed in there several hours later. My stomach was crying out for food, as they didn't bother to feed me at all. I couldn't keep my good stamina up without food. I was hoping once I managed to get out of there, and re-joined The Joker, I could stuff myself with fast food.

Handcuffs was slammed around my wrists again, and once in the interrogation room, I was pushed onto a chair by the two cops that had led me in.

"Hey guys, when do I get to eat?" I asked, nicely.

"Shut your mouth, and wait here," the tallest cop hissed.

"Wow, that was rude," I snorted. "Just because I'm an inmate doesn't mean you get to speak to me like that, mister."

"You're a piece of shit who's a supporter of a psychopathic clown maniac," the other one announced. "You deserve no respect, doesn't matter your age or the fact you're a teenage girl."

"I'm a piece of shit?" I spluttered. "What about the people I killed? Were _they _not pieces of shit?"

"Shut up, your royal annoyance," the first snapped. "Wait here for Gordon to put you out of our misery."

They quickly bustled out of the room, and shut the heavy, leaving me to suffer the long, tense wait.

I twiddled with my fingers and awaited to be questioned. The room, lined with shining white bricks and several large windows, was completely darkened, with the only light being the dim lampshade on the wooden desk before me. I glanced around, examining this strange place with my dark pools, classified as my eyes. My mind was racing along with my head that flashed with the images of the scene of beautiful crime I'd just been caught in.

I noticed there were security cameras at every corner, witnessing my every move. I grinned cunningly at the camera, before waving my handcuffed hands vigorously in front of my face, spouting out all kinds of funny noises. I giggled hysterically as I raised my middle finger at the camera. I ended up laughing so hard that my precious tiara almost slipped off my head, but I saved it just in time, struggling to place it neatly on my head with restrained hands.

I started clicking with my tongue as I waited for someone to try and challenge me with questions. There was no point looking around for anyone because I could barely see anything apart from the red little lighted dots on the security cameras in the corners of the room. The narrow door up ahead was clear, as it was the only part of the room that was lit up by beaming lights on the ceiling.

After a while, a figure entered the interrogation room, slowly creaking the door open and closing it with a loud bang. He turned around and revealed himself to be the Commissioner himself. I felt a surge of hatred, but I wasn't stupid. I was better at hiding my feelings now, so, I just smiled at him, pleasantly, as he walked towards me, sitting there at the desk.

"_Hi_, Commish," I exclaimed, cheerfully.

He rudely chose not to answer me, instead taking his seat at the desk, facing me with my arms flopped on the table. I immediately bore my eyes into his, attempting to make him feel uncomfortable. It appeared to work. His sighs were shaking like leaves, and he nervously fidgeted in his seat, as he glanced around the room. I couldn't believe he could be nervous in the presence of a little seventeen year old, but, then again, my face was painted like raging maniac and he knew my mind wasn't stable at all.

"So, you know why you're here," he began.

"Not particularly," I muttered.

"You publicly admitted to a killing a man, Jane," he stated. "Bradley Ingham. We saw it on a video that was broadcasted on the GCN this morning. You're working with The Joker. We know everything."

"Oh do you? That's nice," I giggled.

"So you _did _kill Ingham then, Price?" he asked. "It wasn't The Joker? It _was _you?"

"Yes, yes…indeed it was," I sighed. "That's what I _said_ on the _video_, wasn't it? Anyway, is _that_ the reason I'm here? That was _two days _ago, commissioner." I chuckled and rolled my eyes, sarcastically. I licked an ulcer inside my mouth, like The Joker would lick his scars.

"You've committed several murderers–" Gordon started again.

"That's where you're wrong," I interrupted. "I killed merely six people in two days. Eleven in my whole life. That's not _several_."

"Three of them were this _morning_."

"Look, am here for Bradley's death or for the little inconsiderate people I killed this morning?"

Gordon sighed. "Why did you kill Bradley Ingham, Jane?" he interrogated.

"I told you," I hissed. "Didn't you listen to the video? I said why I killed him on that."

"You said you killed him because he didn't want to believe in the terrible things The Joker's doing. Didn't want to join him."

"Exactly."

"How old was this boy?"

"Uh…twenty-one…I think."

"And…and you killed him?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"And you tortured him?"

"Of course."

I didn't really torture Bradley, just simply kicked him in the head a few times, but the word 'torture' sounded much better to me, so I went with it.

"How did you kill him?" Gordon questioned.

"With a bullet through the head, obviously," I answered. "Just wanted him done with. Out of the way. You see, using a gun is far better for little weaklings like him."

"Did you kill him on The Joker's orders?" asked Gordon.

"No," I replied, simply.

"He _didn't_ tell you to kill him?" Gordon sounded astonished.

"Not really," I said, truthfully, smirking at the commissioner. "I made the decision to kill him myself. Like I said on the video, I'm not brainwashed. I don't live under The Joker's shadow. I do things for myself, commissioner. A princess always carries out her…royal duties."

My sinister laugh echoed in the bland interrogation room, even startling Gordon a little. Gordon sighed and stared at me for several painful moments. He looked quite bewildered, but also horrified that someone as young as me could be doing such things. I just smiled back at him, twinkling dad's chocolate brown eyes with mysteriousness.

"So you've killed eleven innocent people in your young life…" Gordon continued. "Six in the past two days. Correct?"

"They weren't innocent," I snapped.

"They were normal citizens, Price."

"Commissioner, no one in this world is innocent. Even you're not. You don't even know _half_ the story of why I killed them. You see, they had a lot of history with me…"

"We know you're responsible for the deaths of Ingham and the three boys this morning were identified as Jason Yates, Thomas Stanley and Alexander Williams. Further investigation on Knight Road was carried out..."

"What do you mean by investigation?"

"The Batman informed us that you had caused chaos on that road."

"Not _complete _chaos, commish. Just a few little killings."

"At number 17 we discovered a whole family dead."

"Of course."

"Were you responsible for that?"

"Of course."

"It has since been confirmed this family were a mother and father, Kayley Lyons and Andre Lucas, and their four month old daughter, Ruby…"

"Yes, commissioner, I _know _this already."

"And you murdered them?"

"Yes. Deservedly."

"You think a four month old deserved to be killed?"

"Actually, I didn't _intend _to kill the baby. It just, uh…it sort of _happened_. I dunno. She was a sweet little thing, I felt sorry for her. Isn't it _sad _how so many babies are born to young parents? Kayley was the same age as me. Seventeen and a mother. Isn't _that _horrible? But now little Ruby won't have to experience growing up…being neglected by her mother and glorified by her father. Now she won't have to live that terrible life I _knew _she was going to have. Because I knew Kayley, I _knew _just how stupid she was. Nothing but a coward. And may I just add, Andre and Ruby were the _only_ ones I didn't know outta all of the people I've killed in the past two days. So it's not like I'm just killing _random_ folk, is it? I _know_ the people I'm killing here. Andre…Kayley's…fiancé…he just happened to be there at the time. He just _showed up_. That wasn't my fault."

"Why did you kill Miss Lyons?"

"She, uh…" I giggled. "She made me mad."

"You had anger towards this girl?"

"Actually, she's had a problem with _me_ my whole life. She was one of those girls in school who looked down on the little outcast that was Jane Price. Oh, let's pick on Jane because she's not in the right state of mind, because she's a little _different_. I may have a little problem in my head but that doesn't mean I should be treated different, should it?" I raised my eyebrows, arrogantly, smacking my lips at the same time. I started drumming my fingers on the table in a rhythmic style. "Soon as the girl with a little behavioural problem starts fighting with the popular plastic, all _hell _is let loose, commissioner! Jane Price, _another _detention because we _all _know with discipline Jane will be a good girl in the end. What a load of fools. Kayley was a little ignorant bitch who was so full of herself and if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be this way. Maybe she could have _tried_ to be my friend, but no…_no_…"

"Is that the same case with the three boys?" Gordon asked. "That you had difficult relationships with them as a child?"

"Oh no, no, no…as a matter of fact, they used to be my closest friends, until…" I sighed heavily as I looked down at my handcuffed hands in front of me, suddenly finding it difficult to continue. I licked my ulcers furiously, before weakly glaring back up at Gordon. "Commissioner, you just _don't_ understand how I work," I said. "I work by revenge. That's all I'm doing. Revenge…it gives me pleasure…you know? Getting rid of people who aren't worth my time…it's nice. Getting 'em out of my life. Jason, Tom, Alex…they were once great…until…until that day they refused to help me. All I wanted was help."

"What for?"

"Finding my father. They all told me I was crazy for believing he was still alive. I'm not crazy, commissioner. They were all _wrong_."

"You killed them because they called you crazy?"

"Not just that! They all abandoned me! Left me with nobody. All I wanted to do was to find…my father…" Although I'd been driven into complete monstrosity, I suddenly let a shaky sigh escape. I flicked my head in embarrassment to stop tears coming. I growled quietly, leaving Gordon almost horrified. "Sorry…I…my mind…it…it does that sometimes." I winked at him, smiling innocently.

"Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?" Gordon asked, worry actually grasping his voice.

"Is that what you asked _yourself_ when you decided to become a police officer?" I asked, cheekily.

"The Joker is using you."

"He's not using me, Gordon."

"He's using you like all the other men that work for him."

"Sometimes…they don't have a _choice_," I said, my voice sounding horribly monotone and sleazy. "Do you really think they'd say no to a guy like _him_? Nah. But that wasn't _me_. You heard me on the video tape, I _chose_ to free The Joker that night. I wasn't forced into this. I chose to do this. So he's not using me. If he was using me, he would have _forced_ me into this, threatening to kill my family and all. Well, he wouldn't need to do that anyway, because I have no family. So…"

"Where is The Joker right now?"

I paused for a few moments, remembering what The Joker had said. The clever bastard had told me: 'Tell them what you _know_.' I smirked at the commissioner.

"I dunno."

"Where is he?"

"I told you. I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Exactly that."

"You're working with him, you know where he is."

"No I don't."

Gordon paused as I sat looking at him, giving him an arrogant glare because I knew I was being honest.

"Miss Price…" Gordon started.

"Princess Price, actually," I corrected.

"Price. You are seventeen years old. A girl your age shouldn't be corrupted, in the way that you are."

"I know," I agreed.

"You shouldn't be killing people for such small reasons as you're telling me."

"Says who?!" I snarled, anger suddenly starting to bubble up in my mind. The voices grew louder. "Your point is…?"

"You're…you're obviously in a lot of mental distress," Gordon stated. "You obviously have a mental problem. A possible personality disorder. Which is _rare_ for a girl of your age, may I add."

"No."

"Are you telling me you have no mental health illness?"

"Who _cares_? You're not a doctor, we're not here to discuss that."

"Jane, there are places that can help you–"

"I don't need help." I groaned, irritably. "Look, what am I here for, _really_? Have you just arrested me for the hell of it? Have you just pushed me in this godforsaken place because I'm just…what? Dressed up? Working for The Joker?"

"You know why, you killed six people in two days."

"_Eleven_ in _four_ days." Gordon then stared at me for a long time. I could tell a sudden thought had bashed his mind. I scowled, impatiently, curious as to what he was thinking. "Speechless, are we, commissioner?" I asked, mockingly.

"Four days…" he murmured.

"That's right," I confirmed.

"It was reported to us, that four nights ago, a man had been killed by The Joker in Joey's Tavern in Gotham's City Centre," he explained. A giant smirk appeared on my face. Gordon definitely took notice of that smirk, looking mighty curious. I remained silent, however. "A joker card was left there…but after we investigated we discovered there were traces of female DNA on that card."

My eyes widened as I remembered. The Joker had told me to touch the card that night before we left Larry there to rot.

"God damnit," I murmured, looking away from the commissioner in shock.

"Was that _your_ DNA, Price?" he questioned.

I glared back at him.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" I chuckled.

"Who was that man that was killed that night? He has not been identified."

"Laurence Torres," I replied, spluttering nasty giggled under my breath. Recalling how good it felt just made me start to chuckle like a madwoman. "How come you can identify some victims and not others, anyway?" I laughed harder.

"Why did The Joker kill him?"

"The Joker? Oh no, no, commissioner, _I_ killed Torres. That's why there was my DNA on that card, hmm? Yeah, I _told_ you I'd killed eleven in four days. He was the first. If my calculations are correct." I laughed, loudly. "You should have seen his _face_!"

"Why did you kill him, Jane?"

I sighed, and looked around the room for a while. I shook my head and engulfed myself into my 'crazy' mind for a moment.

_He ruined everything_, they whispered, raucously.

"He ruined everything," I said, blankly.

_If it weren't for him your mother would still be alive_.

"If…it weren't for _him_…my mother…would still be alive," I whispered.

"What did he do to your mother, Jane?"

"He hated her, basically wanted to her and my father to separate," I explained. "Wanted my father to do all the _pointless_ and _corruptive_ things _he_ wanted to do. Doesn't it make you…_unhappy_, commissioner…that, so many people in this City…all they want is _money_? They want power and want other people to help them get it. My father was only _doing_ crime to provide for his little girl and the woman he loved…and then…_bang_! She was killed. Snatched away from him."

"Did this Torres murder your mother?"

"He didn't. But he planned it."

"But he wasn't responsible?"

"He didn't have a pair big enough to do it himself. The person who actually did it…they didn't want to…didn't _mean _to…but she was corrupted by him too. No point having people in this world that just _use _people. Hmm? So I just killed him. That was when I decided, revenge is what motivates me. For now, at least." I paused as Gordon failed to comment. "You can say all you want about me, Gordon. You don't have to talk to me _nicely _because I'm a woman. You can think me as the _scum _of the earth, if you want…but _no one_…and I mean _no one _deserves to lose their mother the way I lost her. She wasn't the greatest mother, but you know what? Little ten year old me didn't deserve to have her mother taken away. To kill the person responsible…it was…it was rewarding for me. Let's face it, if someone murdered…_your _wife…then you'd want revenge."

"I see what you mean," Gordon finally said. "But the late Harvey Dent died trying to gain _his _revenge."

"Did he? Well, good for him."

"But your father didn't have to turn to crime to–"

"You didn't _know _my father, so…I wouldn't go there if I were you. I would _not_…go there."

"You say you shot the three boys this morning because they refused to help you _find _your father?"

"Yes. Correct. Selfish bastards. Didn't want to help me when my father and I got separated. Didn't want _anything _to do with me, and it _wasn't_ just those three boys, commissioner. All of my friends abandoned me."

"And where is your father now?"

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and take in the fact that my actual father was no more. He was still alive, but he was not really the man who raised me anymore.

"Where is my father now?" I repeated, shaking slightly. I saw my handcuffed hands started to tremble. "My father is dead, my friend. He's dead."

I looked away sharply, unprepared for what was coming next.

_And he can never come back. He's left you forever. He lost you because he was a violent criminal who __**shot **__you in the arm._

I grunted loudly, and in a burst of rage, I kicked underneath the table, making Gordon jump a mile. My head started battering the table, some of my makeup smearing on the wooden surface. Gordon placed his hands onto my own. I yelled and flickered aggressively away.

"I'm sorry, Jane," he fumbled. "I didn't realise…"

"No, I'm…I'm _fine_," I groaned. "I'm fine, Gordon. Don't try and be all nice to me because I'm a girl. I don't…" I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes. "I don't want sympathy. Especially not from you."

"I apologise for talking about your father," he said.

I fluttered my eyes open.

"No, it's okay," I whispered. "It's nice to think about 'im once in a while. But he died two years ago, Gordon. Suicide. He, uh…he lost everything when he lost _me_, you see. Just made him…lose his mind." I leaned in closer. "It made _me _lose _my _mind a bit more. My father would want me to be strong for him. I'm staying strong for him by fighting injustice."

"Miss Price, I don't believe you are as…" He fumbled with his words for a while, obviously trying to pick the right word. "I don't believe you are as _murderous _as _you_ believe you are."

"I'm not _murderous_, am I not?" I taunted. "Did I, or did I not, just admit I've killed eleven people in four days?"

"Yes. But one day, you'll see what I mean."

"You're not always right, you know, commissioner. You just believe you are because you're Gotham's so-called _hero_. You trying to, ah…huh…_reason _with me isn't going to change my ways. Isn't going to change my ideologies. I'm not stupid. I'm not."

"Why _are _you killing people, Jane?" he asked, actually sounding disappointed in me.

"I've already told you that. Because I want revenge. I want pleasure in my shitty life. No one's gonna take the time to sit down and _really _get just how I feel, try to understand the _hell _I've been through. No one would do that for _any _of the guys in this place, because we're not the innocent, sweet little civilians we kill. No one is born evil, commissioner. However, some people _are_ born with things _no one _wants to be born with, and they didn't ask for that. They have to grow up _living _with that. No one asks to be born into a family where the father is a violent criminal and the mother doesn't give a fuck about anyone except herself. No one _asks _to be born into a shitty lifestyle. I was. So…I can only blame the world around me for how I am, _they're _the ones who've brought me down my _whole young _life." I paused, starting to smirk again. "Sad isn't it, when you realise I'm speaking the truth. Horrifying to think that what The Joker says and what he plans to do…is the _truth_. He's right. You don't wanna believe it, but he _is_. You better start searching for him _now_, before…something even more terrible happens in this City. The citizens are going to lose their minds. I wouldn't be surprised if _everyone _in this City is yielding a gun very soon to try and avenge the death of someone 'innocent' The Joker has killed."

"Where is he, Jane?"

"I don't know."

"Oh you _do _know."

"No, I don't."

"You better tell me."

"Or what? What are you going to do? Kill me?"

"I won't let you out of this room until you tell me."

"Well, we're going to be here _all_ night."

"Where is he?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? Out causing a commotion, probably and _you're _not doing anything about it."

"Miss Price…"

"Look, even if I _did _know, you wouldn't let me out of here."

"So you do know?"

"No."

He gazed at me, curiously, not taking his suspicious eyes off my own stubborn ones.

"Listen, if you're going to try and fool me…" he started.

"I'm not," I cut in. "I don't _know _where he is."

"Is he out in the streets of Gotham?"

"Probably."

"Do you know what he's doing?"

"Nope."

"Price, you–"

"You do realise the longer you spend talking to me, the more and more people are being killed out there? I think you better find out _yourself_, Gordon."

"The Batman is investigating, but so far we have received no information–"

"Well what did you expect, hiring the guy dressing up like a bat, like a two year old?" I chuckled. "You've interrogated me enough, don't you think? I'm not intimated be you, you know."

My eyes then drew towards the large door at the opposite end of the room, which opened ajar, and a blackened figure peeped around. Gordon turned around. I could just feel the humiliation from him.

"Commissioner, we have–" the person began, sounding horribly out of breath.

"Lieutenant, can't you see I'm busy right now?" he huffed, impatiently.

"I'm sorry, commissioner, but we have to interrupt this interrogation," the person continued, hastily.

"Are people even allowed to do that?" I asked.

"Quiet!" Gordon snapped. "What is it?"

"We have found some information on The Joker," they confirmed.

"_No_!" I yelled, feeling the fire start to dance through every inch of my body.

Gordon near fell over, rising from his seat in haste.

"Yes?" he inquired.

"We have not caught him, but, well, he…" the person stammered.

"What have you found?" Gordon questioned.

"He…he's on the phone."

"On the _phone_? What kind of nonsense is that?"

"It's true, commissioner, he's rung the asylum from his location, which he won't give to us. He demands to speak to you, immediately. He's threatening some awful things if you don't. He has–"

"You can't be _serious_?" Gordon spluttered. "How did he get the number? Where _is _he?"

"We don't know, sir."

He groaned loudly, before turning back to me and slamming both hands on the table.

"I'll ask you once more only," he grunted. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," I replied, sounding almost pleased.

"What is threatening to do?" Gordon asked the figure who had walked in.

"We don't know…but…but he just said you talk to him right now before something 'terrible happens' as he put it."

"In that case, you take this…this _girl _back into the cells, but keep her handcuffed and well-guarded…I don't want her escaping at _any _cost, you understand?"

"Yes, commissioner."

The figure came more visible as he sauntered towards me, and Gordon left the room, grabbing his keys as he left.

"I didn't know interrogations could simply be _interrupted_," I said, sweetly, as he forcefully pulled me off my seat.

"We never usually do, but this is an emergency," the cop said.

He started, rather aggressively, pushing me out of the room, and soon we were walking down the endless corridors.

"Hey, mister, I might be a little dangerous, but there's no need to get me _more _agitated!" I hissed.

"Be quiet," he groaned.

"Do _you _know what The Joker's planning to do?" he asked.

"No! I have no idea, I swear!" I exclaimed.

"You _better _have no idea."

"Why? What exactly could you do to me?"

"You could be imprisoned for life."

"Oh deary me, and with a criminal mastermind on my side, I'm _surely _screwed!" I laughed.

I was soon pushed back into the very same cell I had come from, and then all I could so was wait.

It was the longest wait of my entire life. My mind was exploding with curiousness, desperation to know what The Joker was doing. I had a few ideas as to what he was doing, although at that point I still had absolutely no idea what was going on, clueless as to where he was. I knew he was on tracks to breaking the commissioner, though. There was no doubt he, Harley and the thugs (and that means Chase, too) had been doing something all day while the cops were busy chasing me around the City.

That was the plan. For the cops to be chasing me down while he did something to lure the commissioner to him.

I couldn't stop fidgeting in my cell. My fingers were itching because the lack of a weapon in my hand. The adrenaline was starting to creep through my veins, trying to take over me at that moment, despite not even being in a scene of uplifting crime, a scene of chaos because of my doings. I was looking around to see if anything had been confirmed, but there was nothing. Just the echoes of the other insane cell mates yelling over one another, along with the rough whispers in my own mind, preparing me for the guaranteed chaos ahead.

Very soon, that happened.

Gordon himself came launching through my cell door, and I was taken aback by how quickly had started unlocking my handcuffs.

"What are you _doing_, commish?" I laughed. "Decided I'm far too feminine to be here after all?"

"No," he panted, tears starting to stream down his eyes. I furiously grabbed my arm and started dragging me back through Arkham. "You have been the bait all along!" he shouted.

"What?" I giggled.

"Shut up. Give me a car, now!" he shouted to the cops around us.

"Yes, commissioner!"

It then occurred to me we were actually heading through to the entrance car park.

"And remember, _alone_! I need to go alone!" Gordon instructed as he now pushed me through the reception door. "No one can join me! Inform the Batman of what's happened and tell him to get to the location immediately!"

"Yes, commissioner, we're on it!"

I wasn't quite sure why, but I suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.

"Price, shut up!" Gordon cried. He then pushed me into the back of a police car. I was laughing so hard, I flopped on the back seat. I don't know what had come over me, but the rush had invaded me. It had locked me onto Jane-mode for sure. "Price, seatbelt on _now_!" Gordon ordered, as he got into the driver's seat, still crying.

To see him crying after he tried to be so intimidating in the interrogation room was so hilarious. I tiredly sat up and strapped myself in, only then noticing the sky had turned to navy-blue, with not one cloud glancing over the City. It was a good day.

"Commissioner?" I piped up, like a little child, as Gordon started speeding away from the asylum's car park.

"What?!" he shouted.

"What's gotten _you _so hysterical?" I asked, sweetly. "What's happening here? Where are you taking me?"

"You knew where he was all along, didn't you?!" he yelled.

"No," I mumbled. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question, commissioner. You're being _so rude_."

"I'm taking you to see your precious Joker," he snapped, in a strangled cry.

"_Yay_!" I squealed, loudly. I started vibrating in my seat. "You _found _him! Aw, you're good detectives after _all_!"

"He has my _wife _and _children _captured!" Gordon cried.

I gasped. "Oh. Oh really?"

"He said he'll torture them and kill them if I didn't return you to him, _alone_, in the next thirty minutes," he explained, his voice quivering horribly. "He told me his location was Joey's Tavern. God damnit, I hope he's being truthful." He whimpered. "My poor family. Why can't people _leave them be_? Why does it have be my innocent family?! My children!"

"Because they are your weakness, Gordon," I said, expressionless. "You'd break yourself for them."

"I swear if hurts my family I'll _kill _him!"

"You see. This is exactly what he's been saying. As soon as the weakness is brought into it…_bam_…their minds go _crazy_!"

"Shut up, you bitch! This is your fault as well!"

"_My _fault! Commissioner, I was in _Arkham_! I had nothing to do with it. Huh. _So _easy to judge, isn't it?"

"You can't tell me you had _no idea _what he was planning to do!"

"Well, I _am _telling you that, Gordon."

Gordon was driving like he was Jenson Button, so we arrived at Joey's Tavern in less than ten minutes, let alone thirty. He had a gun to my head as he led me out of the car, down the alleyway and through the broken, smashed doorway of the putrid tavern, which for sure did not have Larry in it anymore. I didn't even squirm in Gordon's grasp, staying calm and letting the adrenaline take over my soul.

Sure enough, we walked in to find The Joker himself there, waiting patiently, and turned around to face us. Oddly enough, he had the phone still in his hand, and a gun in the other. I noticed all the goons, including Harley, were surrounding him, wearing those infamous clown masks.

The Joker was not the first to speak, however.

"_Daddy_!" A little girl with dark hair sobbed dramatically. She was tied up on a chair in the corner of the room, her face flushed crimson and water spouting not just from her eyes, but from her head, of pure sweat, as well. It was blatantly Gordon's little daughter.

"Darling!" Gordon wept.

He was about to go running over, but was stopped by a load gunshot silencing and halting everybody. The Joker walked in front of Gordon's daughter.

"Ah-da-da-da…dear commissioner," he said, in that low, dangerous voice. "What was the _deal_? You give me back my Jane first." Very gingerly, Gordon removed the gun from my head and pushed me forward. The Joker now stood before me, and amazingly, held his arms out to me. "Princess," he beckoned.

I shrieked and nestled myself up to him, where he stroked my hair. The adrenaline his own fingers rubbed off on me immediately, and I could feel more fire starting to burn inside me. Joker pointed his gun at Gordon, to stop him from going over to the little girl.

"Hello, Joker," I squealed.

The Joker chuckled. "Nice to see you again," he whispered.

"Joker, please…" Gordon fumbled, now putting his hands up. "I…I've given you what you wanted, now, please…let my daughter go, and my…" He started urgently looking around the room, his gun trembling in his own hand. "Where…where's my wife? And my son?" I heard The Joker snigger quietly, as he still stroked my weary head. "You…you said you had _all _of them…_where are they_?!" Gordon screamed.

"Daddy!" the little girl cried out again.

"Your wife…and your son…are safe…" The Joker said, licking his lips. "Your little girl is the only one _here_, however."

Gordon speedily darted his gun towards us.

"Tell me where they are _now_!" he demanded. "You said you had them _all _captured!"

"Relax, commissioner," Joker gruffly said. "Am I _so _heartless that I wouldn't keep 'em safe for you? I never said they were, uh..._all _in the same place, did I? Hmm? Your wife and son are in the care of two wonderful assistants of mine."

"I'll fucking _kill _you!" Gordon screeched.

"That wouldn't be wise," I snarled.

"Too right, PJ," The Joker snickered. "Sweetheart. Look at this little girl here. Brought up so well and healthy. Tell me…were _you _brought up healthily and in a good environment?"

"Not really, sir," I replied, shaking my head.

"What ruined your childhood for you?" Joker asked.

"Well…things…in my mind…that I didn't _chose _to be born with." I glared at the commissioner. "_They _ruined my childhood."

"Did you have parents who loved you?"

"Of…of course I did."

"But you had to witness _them _go through hell, too, didn't you, beautiful?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Aw, you poor little thing." He patted my head and smirked at me, cunningly. I smiled back up at him. Joker looked back around the room, until he met eye to eye with Gordon again. "Not so tough now, eh, Gordon?" he taunted. "Put ya gun down."

"Never."

"If you want any chance of saving your daughter's life, you put the gun down, son." Gordon slowly dropped his gun, with a loud clatter. Almost like it was rehearsed, all the thugs and I laughed on cue. "Good man. Now. Just follow what I say and I won't _shoot _your daughter. Harley?"

"Yeah, Mister J?" Harley said, stepping forward.

"Get our guest a chair, will you?" Joker ordered. "One for him, just like his little girl's."

"Yeah!" Harley shrieked.

She quickly got to work grabbing a random chair and forcing Gordon to sit down it. Gordon did not say a word, however, he never took his eyes off his daughter, who was weeping hysterically in the other corner. Harley quickly started tying him to the seat.

"You must be so proud of your brave little girl," Joker said, now releasing me, starting to pace the room, with his hunched shoulders. "Look at her. Such a fighter. Staying strong for her daddy. Something people don't know, uh…about me, Gordon…is that _I _had a daughter who was a little fighter, too. Mm-hmm. Unfortunately, due to my own _stupid decisions_, I lost her. I had to see my little girl be _beaten _by her mind…her poor mind was just…not…right. Growing up with the miserable life _we _had, I couldn't get the money to help her. I had to see my daughter go through hell…be _raped_…and watch her come back and fight her fears." He now walked right up to Gordon's petrified face. "You've _never _had to witness _your _little girl be tortured, have you? Huh? You haven't had to see her be put through _hell _because she's privileged and well-groomed. She'll never know what it's like to go through _hell_."

"No, you're _not _going to–"

"Oh I am. People like _you_ take your family for granted. _I _never did. I tried to show my own daughter how…_dark _the real world was. Now she knows for sure."

"Men like you don't _deserve _to be a father!"

Joker ignored that statement, and instead called over his shoulder. "Mikey, gimme that video camera!" he ordered.

"Yes, boss," Mikey said.

"Jane, sweetheart…come here," he said. I skipped over, grinning like a maniac. "What's it like to be tortured by your mind, again, Princess Jane?"

"Pure evil," I answered.

"Wait…wait a minute…" Gordon stammered. "Is…is Jane…is _Jane _your daughter?!"

"You must be a fool, commissioner, for believing _me_," The Joker said, ignoring the question. "But your precious family are your weakness so…let's see that be put to the test, shall we?"

"Joker, is torturing physically have the same impact as _mentally_?" I asked, curiously.

He stroked my face, proudly, like dad would.

"That's certainly been _my _impact, princess," he chuckled. "That's what it'd felt like to _me_."

"Joker, you _can't_–" Gordon cried.

"PJ, grab the video camera off, Mikey, sweetheart," Joker instructed. I did so, and started fiddling around with it. I stared at the little girl. I swear I'd never seen someone look so scared of me before. "Sit back and..._relax_," I heard The Joker say to Gordon.

All I could think to myself at that moment was: What have I become?

A vile creature. That's what I'd become. The Devil had taken over my soul. I was suddenly enthusiastic about doing such vile acts.

Oh well. Like father, like daughter.


	21. Torture

_**Many important things in this chapter in terms of plot and character development, but also filled with cruelty and violence.**_

_**The Joker is ****so ****difficult to write, so I hope he doesn't come across as over the top or OOC sometimes. But bad guys are the most fun to write!**_

_**Thank you, hope you like. Please leave reviews!**_

* * *

**Chapter 20 - Torture**

"Action!"

Damn the adrenaline. It just made my hands quiver with venomous excitement. So much so, I couldn't steady the camera straight, but I guess there was no problem in that. This camera had been Bradley's so it was infested with the most brilliant, up-to-date technology. It was the latest thing. So of course the vision of the camera was brilliantly pure, recording every inch of the darkened room in all its glory. Shaking it a little bit wouldn't take away the picture.

I filmed The Joker now starting to circle around Gordon's poor, defenceless little girl, strapped onto the chair, with no escape. The Joker had replaced his gun with a sharpened knife, which was humongous. He had made sure the room was silenced as the video was being filmed, including me, his most trusted camerawoman, although he had said smiling was fine, and the odd giggle, but no words. Much to my astonishment, he left Gordon ungagged behind me, but Harley and Mikey were stood by him, ensuring he didn't escape. Two guns either side of his head, ready to shoot, although Joker had made clear orders not to kill Gordon at all, as he claimed he had more in store for the police officer.

"Don't look so frightened, sweetheart," Joker said, gruffly, as he walked behind the trembling little girl. He licked his scars out of habit.

Such a silly thing to tell the girl, especially when he grabbed her by the neck from behind and pushed her head to look up at the camera.

"No!" Gordon cried from behind me.

"Shh!" Mikey hissed, plummeting his gun into his head further. I knew because I sharply flinched to glare at him over my shoulder, before slowly facing the action before me again.

"Look at the lovely Princess Jane," Joker told the girl, ghostly. "You little girls love your princesses, don't you? You're not scared of a silly old clown. Right?" He stalked around her again, but the girl remained silent. I looked eagerly at The Joker, trapping my tongue in between my teeth, to stop myself from giggling. "I know a _lot _…of people…who were never scared of me. A long time ago. They humiliated poor, poor Joker the clown. Do _you _get bullied, or _are _you a bully? Because I don't like bullies. I don't like bully victims either. Ya know why?" The girl managed to shake her head, very intensely. "Because they are _cowards_. Your father is…a coward. Because he's a bully, a big bossy-boots to all people like me in this City. You, the daughter of a cop, _must _know what it's like to be bossed around, hmm? Opposed to a daughter of a criminal, who, uh…know _nothing _about civilisation. Just chaos. I'm gonna show an innocent young bean like you, _just _what it's like to be beaten…because _I _had to go through it, as a youngster, and I saw others. It's not, nice, Miss Gordon. Not even…a _little_…nice. Now. Don't be shy, girly…say hello to the camera."

To make the room seem colder, all The Joker had to do was to have a commanding edge to his voice, which had now entered his baritone rasp, as he taunted the little girl further.

"H-Hello…" the girl whimpered, stupidly looking down at the floor, making her dark hair falling in front of her face.

"Look at the camera," Joker ordered, softly. She cautiously looked up at the camera again, where I gave her a little wave and a friendly smirk. "Now, little girl, don't you worry. This isn't going to go on TV. Gotham don't need to see this. This is _just _a little home video for your dearest mommy and brother. Just to say a quick hello. So say hello to them, then."

"H-Hello…m-mommy…J-Jimmy…" she stammered.

"Jimmy!"" The Joker mocked, bursting into hysterical laughter. "You called your son _Jimmy_, commissioner?!"

I couldn't help myself from giggling at that moment.

"H-His proper name i-is James…" the little girl spluttered, over Joker's cackling. "Like daddy's…"

"Oh!" The Joker sniggered. "You don't _love _yourself, do ya, Gordon?! Naming your son after yourself! An' what's _your _name, then, sweetheart? You named after your mother, then?"

"No…" the girl whimpered. "I…I'm called Bobbi…"

"Bobbi!" The Joker laughed harder. "Aw, your father is so cruel, isn't he? Hoo-hoo…first he names his son after himself and then gives his _daughter _a _boy's _name! Ha!" He composed himself for a few moments, and then began circling the girl again, but she now got the picture and kept her head at the camera. "Do you _love _ya daddy, then, _Bobbi_?" The Joker asked, tenderly.

I was taken aback at the fact The Joker used the word 'love.'

"I-I…I love him, of course…" Bobbi wept.

"B-Bobbi…stay with me!" I heard Gordon say, quietly, behind me. "It'll be over soon, just stay with me…"

"Shht!" Harley hissed, presumably prodding his head with the gun.

"Children are _so_ emotional," The Joker said. "I don't like 'em."

Without warning, The Joker aggressively bashed the girl across her head with his right hand, where he held the knife. He'd knocked her so violently she toppled over onto the floor, while still trapped onto the chair. Bobbi groaned and started screaming the walls of the tavern down. Once I saw Joker grab her viciously by the hair, I zoomed in on the action. The Joker's strength showed when he yanked her hair backwards and made her look up, while she was still on the floor, forcing her to witness his gruesome scars as he pushed his face up close to hers. The knife was raised to her face.

"_No_!" Gordon cried, behind me. "Please! Don't hurt her! I'll do anything to want!"

"Too…late…" The Joker snarled.

"Please, she's…she's just a little girl!" Gordon shouted. "What I do is _nothing _to do with her!"

"D-Dad…help me…" Bobbi sobbed.

"You _won't _hurt her, Joker! That's my daughter! _Bobbi_!"

It was strange. Gordon was pleading scarily similar things as _my_ dad did when I was being taken away from him, that day where I last saw the real him outside Arkham.

_'She's just a little girl! She's my daughter, you can't take her away from me!' 'No! That's my daughter! Shaylee!'_

Dad's words flooded my mind for a few seconds, and although the room was echoing with Gordon's cries, and Bobbi's screams of suffering, to me, the whole room went silent. Beneath my painted face, it all came back to me, the sheer horror of a father losing his daughter and the agonising pain it brings to both of their hearts. The biggest pain anyone could feel. Whether you're a criminal, or a police officer, has nothing to do with it. If a daughter, which a father loved to death, was being taken away, or tortured before his eyes, it immediately brings a sickening feeling to the heart.

That's exactly what The Joker was trying to do. He was gaining his sick revenge, by making Gordon feel the way he did when I was being taken away, and then shot to ground, before his very eyes. Only he was doing it in the only way he knew how: torture. Being a vile creature.

He told me that nothing he did was pointless, and now I was starting to believe it. This act was to gain a sense of twisted revenge, not just doing it for the sake of it. I though he was doing it to punish Commissioner Gordon, but it was then it that moment, that I realised, it was both.

The Joker was so clever.

"Look at 'im," Joker growled at the little girl, forcing her head upwards by her hair. "Look at your father, you little brat."

"Please, Joker…I'll do anything…" Gordon begged, pathetically.

"You've said that already," Joker hissed.

"Please…punish me instead…don't hurt my daughter…"

"I once had a vision that _all _police officers like you were _punished_," Joker grunted. "So I'm only making a little start." He then glanced up at me, nodding knowingly. I saw a tiny glint in his eye before he turned back to Bobbi. "Stan, the bat," Joker ordered, placing his knife carefully on the floor.

I looked to my side to see one thug, who was obviously Stan with a mask on, nod his head and behind him, he lifted a large baseball bat aloft, which I hadn't even noticed was there. He slowly handed it to The Joker, who snatched it off him and plummeted the girl's head to the floor, by loosening his grip on her hair, as he stood up, sharply. Bobbi cowered before The Joker, as he once again, began to circle her, like a hungry lion, even licking his lips, ready to taste his sweet revenge.

Although I shouldn't have been, I found myself starting to smirk, even though my heart had become road runner.

"_Please_…" Gordon wept behind me. "Don't you _dare_…"

"Oh, commissioner, when will you learn, huh?" Joker said, sounding spookily calm. "I'm not a happy clown, am I? You think I was gonna show your daughter some magic tricks? No…" He sniggered. "You don't think I was gonna _give up _fighting for Gotham's soul by just trying to beat up The Batman, do you? Oh no. No, no, no…I proved that even men like Harvey Dent…could _fall_, despite you all making out he was a hero. _You're_ gonna be next…"

"_Never_!" Gordon bellowed.

"Not if I can help it," Joker snapped.

"Let her go, you demented freak!" the commissioner pleaded. "You _sick_-_minded_ maniac!"

"Aw, now _that's _just mean…isn't it, Bobbi? Hmm?" Bobbi didn't say a word. She just remained stammering and crying helplessly. "I'm just going to have to teach 'im a lesson, _aren't I_?"

He halted and looked in my direction. He displayed the baseball bat to the camera, comically flicking his hair back, as if he were in a shampoo advertisement. I laughed loudly at this, before clasping my free hand over my mouth to control my laughter, but The Joker didn't seem to mind, chuckling along with me.

"You _maniac_!" Gordon screamed.

"Ah, shut up," Joker chuckled. "Now." He then spoke into the camera, as I zoomed out again and focused it on him. "Watch closely. I'm gonna masterfully tame this little _brat_ down here, using this baseball _bat_. Clever, huh? Once she's tamed with it, then I'll make it disappear, only to then be replaced immediately by a gun instead!" He giggled. "My assistant today is Princess Jane, on camera. Now, the little brat we have with us today is a cop kid called Bobbi Gordon. Now, that may be a lads' name, but oddly enough we have a little _girl _right here." He then snapped his head back down at her, and I floated the camera downwards so she was in shot. "Tell me, sweet little Bobbi Gordon, what do you think of The Batman?" Bobbi still uttered no words. "I want an _answer_, angel face," The Joker taunted.

"He…he's…Gotham's hero..." she stammered. "He shows that men like you _can _be stopped!"

The Joker exploded into laughter. "Aw, ain't that adorable?" he snickered, cruelly. "I hate to break it to you, darling, but he isn't _here _to stop me right now, _is _he? Anyway, you're probably _in lo-ove _with him…little girl crush, hmm? You probably want to be just like him when you grow up. _That _would be make your daddy proud, wouldn't it? Being a symbolisation of…uh…_Halloween _costumes!" All the thugs then started to laugh, including me. "Shut up!" Joker shouted. Our mouths were hushed instantly. "You wanna be like Batman, huh?" he mocked. "_Huh_?"

"I…I don't know!" Bobbi whimpered.

"Oh you do. Don't lie to a man like me, little girl. I don't like liars. You'd wanna be like him, wouldn't ya? You would follow in his footsteps, try and get rid of criminals. Hmm?"

"I'd want to get rid of horrid men like _you_!" she yelled.

"Ahh, you see? You _do _like the Batman. You _do _think he's right. Well, _I _don't." He bolted his foot and jammed it into the side of her head, making her grunt and then whimper deafeningly. I heard Gordon pant heavily behind me. "You couldn't be like Batman, because you're a _girl_, anyway. Unless…you were, say…Bat_girl_…" He then stroked the baseball bat in his gloved hand. "_Bat girl_…ya know…I totally said that outta coincidence…but you really _are _going to be a _bat girl _now…once you've been tamed by this _bat_…and I don't mean the animal with flappy wings, girly, if you haven't guessed…"

"You're going to _beat her_!" Gordon cried out. "Don't stand there and say you're going to do something like fucking _taming _her!"

"_Look at the camera_!" The Joker roared the instruction at Bobbi, now high above her, and the little girl yelped, loudly, before lifting her head very slowly up at the camera. I could not believe what I was witnessing. "Now…let's get on with the circus trick, _shall we_? The taming of the little _brat_…or should I say…the cop child brat…who probably would wanna _become _the female version of the sorry little _Batman_!"

Like it came out of nowhere, The Joker started savagely beating little Bobbi Gordon violently with the bat. She only managed to whimper the word 'dad', in between her piercing screams. Gordon yelled out her name, and I could hear him trying to fly from his chair behind me, even though it was impossible, as he was tied firmly to the chair. The Joker continued to beat her hard, grunting loudly. He became a total vile animal, crushing Gordon's soul as he shattered the girl to pieces. It even made me feel a little uncomfortable.

But that was the whole point, and why The Joker was so sadistically brilliant. He knew in his mental mind he was breaking the commissioner by torturing his young daughter, but also gaining his revenge, by making another father witnessing his daughter being beaten down. However, at the same time, he was trying to drill the callous things he believed in into my own schizoid mind. He wanted me to believe that torture was okay. He _wanted _my mind to break.

I was starting to believe he wanted to turn me into an insane killer, like he was. He denied he was insane, but I think _he _knew that he legitimately was.

Once he beat the girl for no more than a few seconds, he threw the baseball bat to one side, and then started kicking the girl in her stomach, with an undeniable strong force. She groaned in shrieked in pain. The Joker imitated her groaning with a silly girly squeal, making me snicker under my breath, even though I knew I shouldn't have. I couldn't help it, though. My head was laughing at The Joker's mocking as he stomped on the girl below him, so I had no choice but to giggle.

Then, almost like it _was _magic, Joker revealed a gun from his pocket and darted it at the little girl, even making me nearly fall backwards in shock.

"_NO_!" Gordon screamed. "Bobbi! Bobbi, _no_! Stay with me!"

"Commissioner, could you _please _just be quiet for a few goddamn minutes?" Joker snapped, in his gruff voice. He then darted his head towards me. "Gimme the camera," he said. I handed it to him immediately. He twirled it around until the camera was facing him. Gripping it in one hand, and the gun in the other, he then held it high above so Bobbi was in the shot as well. "Your daughter is _very _brave," he snickered. "But now it's time for the _final _part of the trick! You wanna see the trick?"

"_Please _don't shoot her!" Gordon screamed. "Kill _me_! Don't kill my daughter, she's just a little girl!"

"I can see where she gets her bravery," Joker continued into the camera, ignoring Gordon. "Your hubby is very brave too, Mrs Gordon. I ain't going to shoot your child. I'm just gonna...uhh…" He then laughed callously before weaving the camera around to Stan, and then just bolted a bullet at him, and his body collapsed heavily onto the floor. Bobbi shrieked upon hearing the bullet bouncing off Stan, and The Joker continued over her heavy screaming. "I was _just _using it for a little demonstration after all! Ta-da! Not like you haven't seen _enough _demonstrations from me over these past few weeks. Huh? Think of that little shot as…a warning. You want this to happen to _you_, too? _Your _family? I'm gonna give the instructions to your heroic Jim Gordon…to make sure it _don't _happen to you. He won't let it happen, though, will he, because he's _so _good-hearted he'll make sure you stay safe? Well, don't be _too _sure. I am so grateful of little Bobbi volunteering to take the first battering, because _you're _gonna have it for a while now. So be prepared. Remember, Gordon family, I _don't_…_ever_…break my word."

Joker exploded into insane laughter, as he turned the camera off and threw it at me, but luckily, I was alert and I caught it, skilfully. I watched The Joker take a few minutes to compose himself, especially as now he was gazing upon the wretched little girl, writhing and kicking away frantically. I knew in his sick mind, he was enjoying seeing the pain and hurtfulness he was creating.

"Joker…give me my daughter back…_please_…" Gordon whined. "You've…you've had your sick fun, now _please _give me her back…"

I spun around and glared at him to hush his mouth, and it surprisingly worked, when he looked horrified at me. I then looked back Joker, who coughed, loudly. He smirked at the commissioner, a look of sheer pleasure etching into his painted face. I smiled, pleasantly back at him.

I was shocked when The Joker then addressed me, completely ignoring Gordon.

"Jane, take the memory card outta that thing, will ya?" he said. The room grew freezing again, because of the sheer calmness of his voice. "Take it out. Harley?"

Harley sprung next to me, filled with excitement with the call of her name.

"Yeah, sir?" she sang.

"You remember where I left that connector thingy?" The Joker asked, casually. "The one that makes the video camera go onto a TV?"

"Yeah!" Harley squealed.

"Go get it, then, and be quick about it." Harley dashed up the stairs upon her orders, springing over Stan's body as she left. Joker then turned to me again. By now I had figured out how to get the card out of the camera. The Joker gently took it off me, and raised my chin, sharply, to look at him. "On this card, is precious footage. What you just witnessed there. Don't lose it. Put it back in the camera and don't you even think about losing it. In a moment, you and Harley are gonna head to Gordon's wife and son's location. You're gonna show them the magic show on the video camera, okay? Using that connector thing. Understood?"

"Yes, boss," I giggled.

Joker lowered his voice so it was almost inaudible. "And under _no _circumstances should they escape. If they escape, you _die_. An' make 'em what the _whole _thing. That'll be Harley's job, though, she already knows her duty. You understand, flower?"

"Perfectly, sir," I whispered.

"Thank you, your highness." He then ignorantly pushed me aside and sauntered over to the commissioner's face, which by now had become seer ice, which was melting horribly from his eyes. "Now, my good man, you and I are going to have to have a little chat, concerning your despicable little family and what I'm going to offer you..."

"You're not going to _hurt _them! I won't let you!" Gordon shouted.

"Funny…I just _did _hurt a member of your family," Joker replied, licking his lips.

"You're _sick_!" Gordon spat.

"Nah, I'm perfectly well. Of course you won't let me hurt 'em anymore. I _know _you won't." He paused as we both took in Gordon's weeping, like it was some sort of achievement. "Do you wanna know…why I used the _bat_? I thought it was kinda ironic. I was beating her with the _bat_…in a way of saying…the Bat_man_…is causing _all _of this to _happen_. _He's _the one who's causing your little girl to be beaten. Because _he's _not here to help her. You, commissioner, are _still _tryin' to make Dent seem like a hero…and now everyone _desp-i-ses _the Batman because…_he_…if I rightly recall, has been _blamed _for Dent's death? I saw that on the news, this morning, am I correct? Because if he _did_, then Gotham's soul can no longer be his…it's _mine_. _Mine_." He leaned in closer to Gordon's face. "An' I'll tell you somethin'…the inhabitants in this pit of darkness are going to be even _crazier_ now they know their hero ain't what he appeared to be. No _wonder _he isn't coming back out to save the day, huh? He's probably _done one_. Now he won't _ever _turn himself in, will he? Which means I…just get to kill _more_…and _more_ and _more_…"

"_No_!" Gordon cried. "Not if I can help it!"

"Shush, shush, shush…I need to talk about the proposition–"

"Mister J, I _found _it!" Harley squealed as she came skipping back down the stairs. "Aw, there's some pictures up there of you, J, when me an' you were _little_! I found it so–"

"You _dare _bring up the past!" The Joker roared into her face, now grabbing her by the top of her corset.

"Hey, J, honey, I was only…" she stammered.

"Those are not pictures of me, you imbecile," he snarled. "They are pictures of a boy I _killed_."

"And I boy _I _killed," I cut in.

"Indeed," The Joker chuckled. He harshly caressed Harley's cheek, and her new scars on her black mouth. "Now _go_, you stupid whore," he growled, in his gravelly voice. "You _know _what to do!"

"Hey, I'm no whore!" Harley argued.

"Now, now, my harlequin, you don't wanna make me angry, do ya?" Joker hissed. I nearly vomited at that moment. "You _are _a whore, Harley. Everyone knows tha_t_. Now, you have your cell phone, I presume?" Harley nodded, nervously. "Good. Be prepared for a call sooner or later, Harls. Now, _go_. Get _out_!" He dropped her onto the floor. "_Out_!" Harley scrambled onto her feet and started trotting out of the room, holding this camera connector in one hand, and her red handgun in the other. I idiotically stood still and Joker scooted his eyes back towards me. "And you, out!" he shouted.

I immediately sprinted out of the tavern, with the camera in my hand. I caught up with Harley after seeing her run down the alleyway.

"Hey, wait up!" I called after her. She heard me and stopped stiff in her tracks. "I've been told to come with you to show Gordon's wife and son the video of The Joker just completely battering the daughter."

"Ah, come _on_, then," she groaned and led me up the pathway. We soon made it to Ivy's van, which was carelessly parked outside. We climbed in and soon Harley started speeding us down the road to our location. I watched the playback of the torturous scenes on the camera, gobsmacked at what I watched. "I gotta admit, even _I _was shocked when he started doin' that," Harley said out of the blue, sounding a bit like her intelligent true self of Harleen. "I've seen 'im do a _lot _of bad things, but that's gotta be the worst."

"Oh come on, Harley, beating up a young girl is _not _the worst thing he's done," I stated, factually. "He blew up that Rachel Dawes, remember? _And _blew up a hospital my ex's mom was in at the time."

"Well, I was in Arkham when that all happened, so I didn't know, did I? I know he killed that cabbage-patch-face Rachel…did he blow up your ex's mom, then?"

"Oh, no, they…they got her out in time, before the explosion happened."

"Bet you were gutted."

"No I wasn't, actually. I was glad she was safe."

I flipped the camera closed and gazed out of the window.

"You _what_?" Harley said. "If Mister J saw ya being all soft like that right now he'd kill ya!"

"Yeah, well…it was like a few weeks ago, anyway."

"Anyway, did you _hear _what he called me back then? I'm no _whore_, PJ. I'm a one-man loon, only for _him_."

"So how come you let Mikey fiddle with you around back of the bank the other day, then, Harley?"

"He never _fiddled _with me!" she retorted. "He just kissed me, that's all."

I sighed heavily, not being able to understand Harley in the slightest. Maybe was as crazy as The Joker after all.

"So where we going?" I asked.

"There's this abandoned hotel place where J's keepin' 'em hostage," Harley answered.

"Who's keeping them hostage?"

"The Delanceys."

"What? You mean Chase and James?"

"Well they weren't at the tavern, were they?"

"I…I guess not."

"Pretty silly, if you ask me. James is probably drunk and high, at least Chase has his head screwed on, unless his papa has intoxicated him with somethin', but then again, Chase is only a little boy, who's new, he won't have a clue."

"Chase isn't stupid," I snapped. "He won't have taken anything. He doesn't even _like _his dad anyway, he's never ever been there for him. He would have made sure they haven't escaped. He wouldn't _dare_."

"You're pretty defensive about 'im, aren't ya?"

"Yeah, I am, okay?! Besides, do you even know how to use that connector thing to put the camera through to a TV?"

"Joker taught me how to use it. He found it among the Ingham boy's things when we captured him the other night."

"How much longer is it?"

"Don't worry, we're nearly there, Princess Jane."

She was right. About a minute later, Harley pulled up outside a very large, gothic building, looking like it was crumbling to pieces. The tiles in the roof were hanging on an end. You could almost smell the waft of smoke and charcoal from outside the gate. There was a tiny plaque that read 'Gotham City Hotel 1894'. No wonder it was falling apart.

It was highly fascinating to me. I felt the hotel's ghostly presence, and I had a strange feeling I may even see ghosts for real, as I had always believed in them. It was like an actual haunted house I had drawn as a little girl. The hotel was in the middle of nowhere. Harley Quinn was obviously an expert of finding places in Gotham City that were highly obscure and in the middle of nowhere.

Despite parking outside the huge black entrance gate, Harley led me around the endless walls around the building, until there was a gap, a part of the wall which had been demolished, and we stepped through it to the drought hotel grounds, and then she guided me to a door at the side of the building. Harley had handed me a knife of hers for defence, while she had a gun, while still holding onto the camera connector. I held the video camera carefully in my other hand. Once we entered through the door into the darkened hallways of the ancient hotel, she shushed me, harshly, as we made our way through many corridors, until finally we reached what seemed like a never-ending stairway downwards.

"Is that, like, an underground pathway?" I asked, curiously.

"Nah, it leads to a basement," Harley explained. "And some other small little rooms. Mostly little kitchen places. This is a silly little gothic hotel. It's like somethin' outta The Addams Family."

We both giggled, childishly, as we rushed down the stairway.

As soon as we made it to the end of the stairs, we heard whimpering coming from the door straight ahead of us. Harley kicked the door down to reveal a cramped room, where Gordon's wife, Barbara and his son, little Jimmy were each tied to a different chair, both of them blubbering and looking petrified at Harley's enthusiastic entrance.

Behind the two hostages, were James and Chase themselves. James was smoking marijuana, making the foul stench of the drug cascade the whole room. Chase looked unbelievably awkward and nervous, bearing a gun at the little boy's head. James had his gun digging into the side of Barbara's neck. Despite Chase looking like the most unintimidating criminal ever, I could see his eyes were blood-shoot, and his feet were shuffling uncontrollably. It made it hard for him to stand upright.

"Heya!" she laughed, waltzing in, carrying her gun.

"Who are _you_?!" Barbara demanded.

"Harley. Harley Frances Quinn," Harley introduced. "Former psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum."

"What?" I spluttered.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed. "Didn't ya know?"

"I never knew you _actually _went on to be a psychiatrist for real," I said, completely baffled.

"Uh, yeah," Harley scoffed.

"Oh."

I couldn't believe my dad had never told me that before. Unless she was lying and just showing off, of course, but…why would she? Maybe dad never told me because he was jealous she had a good job at one point, or in fact, it was his fault she went crazy and lost the job. But I don't know. She obviously didn't have the job for long, did she? She became an insane criminal pretty quickly. I mean, dad had told me that's what she'd been for the majority of my life, but at that moment it wasn't the right time to ask her about her life story.

"Anyway, lady, I'm…" She glanced behind her at me. "_We_...myself and Princess Jane Price, are here in behalf of The Joker. Now, I think you outta thank these two guys, James and Chase Delancey, for lookin' after ya all this time. Your hubby, and your daddy, the commissioner, is in talks with The Joker as I speak…"

"What have you done with Bobbi?" Barbara wept. "Tell me what you've done with my daughter…my innocent little daughter!"

"Why don't you answer that one, Pricey?" Harley said, joyously.

She gave me an insane grin, which I couldn't help but grin back. She waggled her head so her pigtails danced beside her face. I sort of missed my hair being that long again, although my hair was growing faster again, so my hair was almost now like a bob.

"Well, uh…little Bobbi is with The Joker…" I began.

"What has he _done_ to her?!" she screamed.

"If you let me finish, Mrs Gordon," I said, impatiently. "Little Bobbi has been awfully brave, hasn't she, Harley?" Harley nodded frantically, starting to giggle. I chuckled too, now starting to feel the fiery adrenaline pumping through my veins. "Now, uh…The Joker wanted us, his most trusted thugs, to be able to show you this." I displayed the video camera to their horrified faces. "On this video is a little video of warning, but also, uh…a…_show_…I should say, of your little girl's bravery."

"Now _I'm _gonna do the honours because _I _was given the job to do so!" Harley chimed. "Hey, Delancey…_senior_…where's the TV in here?!"

"Right behind you," James mumbled in response, exhaling a large amount of smoke.

We both spun around to see a tiny little aerial TV on a table by the wall.

"Ah!" Harley giggled. She began to fidget with the small TV set, while the hostages remained sobbing. "Damn this thing is so small…I can't…" She grunted, loudly in frustration.

"Give it here, you dumb bitch," James grumbled, barging over.

"Jane, the _camera_," Harley ordered, holding her palm out, expectantly. I slammed it down on her palm. "Is it in the right place?" she questioned.

"Of course," I answered.

"I can't deal with this."

I sharply looked around again to see Chase had already stormed out of the room.

"Chase!" I called.

"Go after 'im," Harley sneered.

"What?"

"Go after 'im, Jane," she repeated. "I'll sort _all_ this out, doncha worry."

I groaned, and stomped my foot like a petulant three year old. My excited adrenaline had suddenly transformed into my untameable anger. I marched out of the room, just in time to see the door ahead of me slammed shut. I quickly smashed my way into that opposite room and shut the door so aggressively, I startled Chase, who nearly fell onto the counter that was before him. I had entered what seemed to be a miniature kitchen area. Chase turned around, and that's when I noticed he had a large bottle of vodka in his hand. I scowled at it, gripping onto the knife that was still in between my fingers. Chase's eyes were crying out to me. He didn't need to say a word to me to tell me he was pleading. He had obviously abandoned the gun he was yielding at Gordon's wife.

"Chase, what are you _doing_?" I snapped.

"You…what did you do to that little girl?" Chase slurred, backing up against the counter.

"_Me_?!" I exclaimed. "I did _nothing_, Chase. Absolutely nothing to her. I never laid a finger on the girl, I swear. All I did was make the video."

"What does that video have on it?" he demanded.

"Just The Joker beating her up," I replied. "Torturing her."

"And you…you _filmed that_?" he screeched.

"Yes, I did, because The Joker _told _me to do it, of course."

"You could have said no!"

"Uh…no. I really couldn't."

"What is The Joker trying to _prove_ by torturing an innocent little girl? The commissioner's daughter?"

"He was gaining revenge, Chase."

"Revenge? For _what_?"

I began walking carefully up to his face, grasping the knife.

"What's the matter with _you_, Chase?" I said, my voice becoming strangled with the thought of horrid memories. "Why you suddenly got all hysterical?" I sighed. "Oh, don't you _get it_? He did it because he had to see _me _be beaten down and go through _hell _my whole _life_! He wanted another father to experience his daughter being tortured and _beaten _down! He was doing it for me, you understand that? Well…partly. He's also trying to destroy poor Gordon's mind, using his family as the bait."

"Shaylee, you must be crazy for thinking he was doing it for you!" Chase suddenly yelled. He pushed his face into mine, and I backed away from shock.

"Don't you even _think_ about calling me that," I growled, lowering my 'princess' voice. "Shaylee is dead, Chase. She's dead. She killed herself. If she ever came back, she'd only come back because _Jane _dies."

"Won't you just listen to me for two fucking minutes?!" he shouted. "For once in your damn life?!"

I raised my eyebrows, ignorantly. His angered expression was very much like when he was angry when we were together. Usually I would have hit him by now, but I decided to try and listen to his whining for once. Maybe it would benefit me.

"Go on then," I said, calmly.

"I can't believe you're helping The Joker do this," Chase went on, sounding like he was going to throw up every two seconds. I could even smell the alcohol evaporate from him.

"Chase, we've _discussed _this…" I interrupted.

"Shut up a minute! Do you think I'm that stupid? I _know _what he's trying to do. He's brainwashing you to help him kill Commissioner Gordon, _that's_ what he's doing. He wants Gotham to go against him."

"He's just showing that even someone as good as the commissioner can be broken," I stated.

"But _why_?" Chase persisted. "And doing it by torturing his _family_? He's probably going to end up killing all of them, isn't he?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"I thought The Joker would have told you."

"No."

"I just…" He sighed, running his free hand through his black locks. "I just can't believe you're doing this, Shay– I mean Jane."

"Don't you understand? If I don't follow him and do what he tells me to do he's gonna kill me. Do you think I want my own father to kill me?"

"He's not your father."

"Yes he _is_!"

"Well, yeah, he _is_, but he's not the man that raised you, is he?"

"Well, not exactly, but–"

"Did your dad raise you to believe that torturing children is alright?"

"Chase!"

"Did your dad raise you to kill all these people, like you've done?"

"Shut _up_!"

"_No_!"

"Chase, are you actually an _idiot_? My dad is…he's…he's _changed_, hasn't he? He went so crazy he…changed. Literally. Because his mind took control of him."

"And do you want that to happen to you?"

"Well, if it does, I can't do anything about it, can I? Besides Chase, all I'm doing is gaining revenge on people who I believe are responsible for making my life a misery, because it's _fair_. And I'm enjoying it!"

"Then you're sick."

"I'm not. No, I'm _not_."

"Well if you're gaining so-called revenge, how come you haven't killed _me _then, huh?"

My mouth suddenly became inaudible for a few intense seconds. Chase's question startled me. However, after racking my mental brain, I knew there was only one answer.

"Because…because, Chase…I've told you this before. Despite _all _the shit I've put you through…_everything _I've done do you…I actually damn love you with all my heart! Okay!"

"You…you what?"

"Chase, what did I say to you? I could never _ever _kill you…with anyone else it would be so easy and enjoyable, but…with you, I…I don't know, I just couldn't."

"Yet, you could kill members of my family, right?"

"Chase…"

"Who's to say you won't break your promise? You _will _kill more of my family?"

"You know I wouldn't do that."

"If The Joker asked you to, then you would."

"Chase…"

"He would slowly twist your mind into believing that killing my family is the right thing to, and you'd do it. Because that's what he's doing, Shaylee, _twisting _your mind. That's what he wants to do to the whole world."

"Because the whole world treated him and me like _shit_ growing up and his _mind _took control and made him believe the only way to gain revenge on this world is be brutal towards it! He can't help it, Chase. The schizophrenia…it…it'd been threatening to take over him all his life…and it did."

"I don't just think it was schizophrenia, Shaylee."

"How would _you _know, anyway?"

"He just wants you to be like him. And I _know _you're better than this. I know…somewhere…the girl I fell in love with is still inside of you…and…I just want her to come back. The _real _you wouldn't support torturing children and trying to turn a City against the police commissioner just because you _can_."

"Well I'm _not _Shaylee anymore, _am I_?!" I barked.

"No! You're _not_!" Chase yelled in my face.

I sighed deeply. "Oh, Chase…this is just like old times…when we were together…"

"Don't you even _try _and make me fall for that sweet and innocent act you're doing…" he snarled.

"Are you an angry drunk?" I asked.

"What?"

"When you're drunk, do you get angry?"

"What's _that _got to do with anything?!"

"Because you're drunk right now."

Chase slammed down his bottle on the counter next to him.

"_Shut up_!" he yelled.

"Ooh, someone's getting all defensive, _now_, isn't he?" I laughed, purposely trying to provoke him.

"Shut _up_!" He suddenly grabbed me by my shirt, but I wasn't fazed, as I was used to this happening to me by now.

"You must be a fool, I have a _knife _in my hand you idiot!" I chortled.

"Do you think what you're doing is _funny_?" Chase now sounded the angriest I had ever heard him. This was totally out of his character. I'd never seen fire in his eyes before, but now I saw them, burning. That's all that was needed to make the hallucinated flames start to glimmer around the room. "Do you think it's some sort of joke?!" he shouted.

"Life _is _a big joke," I spat. "It has been ever since _we _broke up. In fact, it even was a bit of joke when we were together."

"So, our relationship was a joke, now, was it?" He now suddenly started spouting water from his green eyes. "Everything I did for you, all the help I tried to give you…it was all worth nothing, was it?"

"No! Of _course _it wasn't!" I insisted, because it was the truth. "I've _told _you this, Chase! You even said yourself the other night that you were an _idiot _for breaking up with me and that it was _your fault _I went through a huge…change. You said that yourself! This all happened _after _we broke up, so don't even _suggest _that our relationship was a joke, because you _know _it wasn't!"

"I'm not saying it wasn't my fault, but all I ever did was try and help you," Chase said, sounding hoarse, now loosening his grip on me. "Because you never got it through your head that you were ill. Shaylee, you're _ill_. Can't you see that?"

"I'm not ill!" I cried. "I'm fine!"

"No, you're no fine. You _know _you're mentally ill, and it's only going to get worse if you don't stop killing people!"

"And what makes you think it's going to stop? It won't ever stop. My _mind _guides to do it! You _know _that! I can't…it's hard to stop it. But…in some ways…I like it. Chase…this is me now. It's been decided. My fate is to be this way, because that's how the world sees me. They see me as a murderous, crazy, sadistic woman who _loves _to kill. What's the point in trying to be friendly with the world anymore, Chase? I tried _all my life_…and all that ever seemed to happen was that it was against me! I've lost _faith _in myself!"

"Well, _I _don't see you as a sadistic woman who loves to kill. Believe it or not, I _still _believe you can go back to the way you were. When I first met you. The little girl with such a…beautiful soul. All I'm doing…is trying to help you. Can't you see? I'm trying to help you before it's too late and The Joker has made your mind become so twisted that you actually _will _become a psychopath like he is!"

My bottom lip crashed to the floor, along with my heart.

"I am no psycho, Chase!" I screeched. "I still have feelings. The Joker has _none_."

"Clearly."

"Chase, if…if you were to die…I would do _anything _to avenge your death. I would go on a _huge _killing spree to show 'em who's boss…to kill _everyone _responsible for your death…because that would show I still love you, because I _do_…still love you, you total idiot!"

"And you think I would _want_ you to kill people in my name? _Really_? Don't be so stupid."

"That's what _I _would want."

"That…that's what makes this so horrifying. The first thing you'd do is kill people. _That's _what I'm trying to say. It…it can't happen anymore."

"_You're _not in control of my mind, are you?!"

"No, but _you _are! And _you _need to wise up and stop being a vile supporter of your maniac father before it's too la–"

He was cut off because I slapped him solidly across his pale face. Chase staggered backwards until he lost balance and fell to the ground. He cowered away from me when I loomed above him, glaring at him and displaying the knife, which shone beautifully from the reflection of the moonlight through the gaping window.

I knew what Chase was saying was absolutely right, logically, but I just couldn't let myself believe it. The Joker was my father, he was blood. Chase was my ex-boyfriend, who I fell deeply in love with. I always thought blood was thicker than water. That's what my mind was telling me, too. The Joker had helped me to become Princess Jane, and yes, he was drilling a lot sickening things into my mind, but I knew he was doing it so I gain what I wanted: and that was revenge.

"You can insult me all you want," I hissed at Chase. "But don't insult my father. He is still my father, after all. You wouldn't like it if _I _insulted _yours_."

"I wouldn't give a fuck," he snapped. "My dad's a vile thug."

"The way you just grabbed hold of me by my shirt, ooh…wasn't _that _a bit like him?"

"Oh, shut up. I'm nothing like him."

"We're opposite. I look like my mom, but I act like my dad. You look like your mom and, well…_act _like your mom, too."

"Don't you dare bring my mom into it!"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_, Chase. I'm not allowed to talk about your family when you insult _mine _all the time!"

"But your dad is _psychopath_!"

"I don't care. He's still my father."

"You're crazy!"

"No, I'm not."

"There's no _need _to talk about my family, anyway."

"Yes, there is. I mean, your family are part of the reason I became this way."

"They have _nothing _to do with it!"

"Really? Didn't your cousin Bradley push me to the _limit _with my anger, which, as you know, _messes with my head_? He called me all sorts of horrid names when you weren't around, but I always held it back, trying to a big strong girl." I chuckled. "Particularly when The Joker came onto the scene. He even called me a dirty whore one time when I came home late and I told him I fucked this guy. I ask you! All I ever was, was _nice _to him."

"So much so that you fucked him without even telling me!"

"Chase, I fucked him _way after _we broke up!"

"How am I supposed to believe that? Maybe you were fucking him behind my back!"

"I would _never _do that to you! I never cheated on you because I _loved _you too goddamn much!"

"You still say you love me, right? Well, if you did, then why would you have sex with Bradley?"

"Why would _Bradley _have sex with _me_?"

"You wouldn't do that to me if you _loved _me!"

"Well, to be honest Chase, I wasn't in the right…state…of, uh, my _mind_, you know? It was a mistake. He was shit, anyway."

"I just…I can't believe you."

"I can't believe how much of a _wimp_ you actually are, Chase. I thought you were tough, but being in this environment shows you're not, doesn't it?"

Suddenly, Chase abruptly rose to his feet and approached me so fiercely he had me backed up against the counter.

"You realise I'm only doing this to save my family?" Chase growled. "Because I made a deal with your lunatic father to spare them in return for me being his thug? If my family were hurt then…then…"

"You'd kill The Joker?!" I gasped.

"_No_…I…I…."

"Yes you would!" I suddenly erupted into cruel giggles.

"No, I wouldn't."

"_Liar_!" I laughed. "You would kill him in revenge!"

"I would _never _kill _anybody_!" he barked.

"What would you do instead then, huh?"

"I…I don't know…"

"Just think yourself lucky that you haven't been asked to kill anyone yet," I giggled. "Because you'll just have to, soon…"

Chase sighed heavily, before he started pacing up and down the room. He was breathless from ranting so much. I just gazed at him, not believing my luck that he was actually here with me, because when I became Princess Jane I thought I'd never see him again.

"Oh, Jane…I'm so sorry."

My ears felt like they'd pricked up, like a dog's. For the first time in that argument, I felt my heart start to pound, and it wouldn't stop. I nibbled on the bottom of my lip, until it almost felt like blood was going to be ripped from it. I couldn't believe what I just heard.

"You…you're sorry?" I said. "What..?"

"You're right," he mumbled.

""I _am_?"

"About it being all my fault…it's my fault you're this way."

My heart fell again.

"I'm just saying, that's what _you _said."

"I know…and it's the truth. I…I should never have left you."

"Please, Chase…don't make me get all emotional…I can't."

Finally, Chase faced me, his tears now filling up the room. I tried to keep my expression blank, but I knew he could see in my eyes that there was a tiny part of me that did wish, it could all go back to how it was.

"Why can't things be the way they were before?" he whispered.

"_Hey_!"

I almost fell onto Chase in shock upon hearing Harley's shriek come from the other room. I instantly darted towards the door, which outside I heard loud footsteps bashing in the hallway. I opened it to see a shadow just making its way out of sight, bolting up the staircase. I looked to see Harley was now in the doorway, with James behind her. I heard Barbara Gordon sobbing and pleading, quietly behind them.

"Harley, what _happened_?!" I yelled at her.

"The little brat managed to escape!" Harley shrieked.

"_What_?!"

"She accidentally released him while trying to get him to look at the screen, because he was too scared," James explained. "She tried to get him to move to the other side of the room because he kept whimpering to his mom."

"Harley, you fucking _idiot_!" I screamed.

That burning sensation of anger, but also determination adrenaline, made me soar up the staircase as fast as I could, and I could hear Harley following me. I was much quicker than her, as I was much younger, and had brilliant stamina, so it was hard for her to keep up with me. It was a good job I was agile enough, because I could hear the little boy's steps draw closer and closer to my ear. He reached the top of the stairs, but I was still hearing his vigorous pants and cries as they vanished slightly, and he became out of my sight when I reached the top. Harley soon joined me.

"Where'd he _go_?" she inquired.

"Shh!" I hissed.

I used my piercing eyes to search every corner, keeping my knife firm in my grip. I knew he wasn't far, because I could hear him whimpering. He had stopped his running, as the bashing has quietened down. It was a good job, I couldn't let his loud feet make my head reel anymore.

_The little worthless brat can't be far, Jane_, they sneered. _You'll soon have him in your grasp_.

"Come on now, Jimmy Junior," I whispered, hoarsely. My voice effortlessly came out psychotic, which wasn't intentional. "Come out now. It's only me, a sweet and innocent princess."

I walked more and more down the long corridor we were in, and to my pleasure the boy's cries became clearer.

"I can hear 'im," Harley chuckled.

"Me too," I laughed. I then halted myself outside a door, which I knew for sure he was trying to hide in. "Do you think it's _this one_, Harley?!" I asked, loudly.

"I ain't sure, PJ, shall we have a look?" she responded, just as loud.

We both laughed like immature schoolgirls as I slowly turned the handle. We tiptoed into the confined little hotel bedroom, and listened closely. Harley's new Glasgow smile made her grin look horrifying, but I couldn't help grinning back at her. Harley nodded her head at the sofa ahead of us, knowingly. I listened in closer. I heard little Jim's quiet weeping come behind the leather sofa.

We got him.

Still sniggering with Harley, I soundlessly walked over and climbed onto the sofa, before peeping my painted face over the top. There I saw the runaway boy, curled into a ball, and sobbing into his knees, completely burying his face away.

"_He-ey_!" I squealed. As soon as he heard me, he gasped and made a run for it, screaming his head off, clearly feeling my presence above him. He crawled from behind the sofa and stumbled to his little feet. "Grab him!" I ordered Harley.

It was a pretty pointless thing to yell out because Harley was practically already there, waiting to grab hold of him, as soon as he ran out behind the sofa. She clung onto him, lifting him aloft, and he kicked his legs and wailed the walls of the room down. Harley and I squealed with laughter at his poor effort to escape. I didn't even realise Harley was as strong as that, as she hauled him away from the sofa.

"Ooh, we have a feisty little boy here, Janey!" she laughed.

"There's no point in trying to escape, boy," I scolded him. "Harley's been in this business for years. Even longer than The Joker. You won't be able to escape her. Oh wait, that's funny, because you just _did_!"

"It was James's fault, not mine!" she insisted.

"James said _you _accidentally let him escape!" I moaned.

"Well, we have 'im now, don't we?" Harley giggled. She then randomly threw him down onto the floor, but before he could try and run again, Harley grabbed his fair locks and bashed his head against the floor several times. "_That _was punishment for running away, okay?!" she taunted.

A sudden thought bulleted my intelligent, but argumentative brain. I lifted the knife in my hand and stroked the metal blade, sickeningly looking at it like it was a baby. I was now in control of my mind again and I couldn't stop it. I didn't _want _my devious mind to stop anyway at that moment. I smirked at Harley and the boy, who was still being rallied against the floor, violently. The Joker was coming out of my system again. I certainly was my father's daughter.

"Actually, Harley," I said, breathily. "I have a _better _punishment for the boy."

She snapped her head at me and grinned with her ghastly Glasgow smile.

"Do you?" she said, astonished. "What's that?"

"I need to have a little word with him," I explained, still smirking. "So give him to me, and you make your way back to the wife. I'll return you to him after my doing so he can continue watching the beloved home video."

"Woah, Jane, check _you _out, gettin' all torturous an' all!" she guffawed.

"Harley. Give me the boy," I said, calmly.

"But I wanna watch!" Harley groaned.

"Give me him! _Now_!" I roared.

"Alright, chill."

She released him and I hurriedly grabbed him when he backed off. Clutching onto the knife, I came on top of him, while he was still laying on the floor, on his back. I immediately brought the knife to his face, so he wouldn't try and run away. I was panting so hard, I almost drooled onto his frightened expression. He couldn't make his escape because I was too heavy on top of him. He struggled uselessly underneath me, wriggling his arms around and continuing to whimper and plead like the true hostage he was.

I looked up to see Harley was still standing there, with her arms folded, but looking so intrigued by me.

"Get _out_!" I bellowed at her. "Out! Go!"

Without saying a word, Harley scampered out of the room.

I snarled back down on the innocent child below me. My mind was making be a vile human being again. Lucifer was talking to me. His demons were whispering the instructions to what to do to my victim. I was being possessed, and it all happened so suddenly yet again. Usually I hated being controlled, especially when I was in school, but this was different. I couldn't control it, as much as I tried to calm my head by taking deep breaths. It was that powerful adrenaline rush blowing through me again.

I can't really explain it properly. It just happens so quickly and I become a horrendous, murderous wretch. But I don't care. I feel good. Especially when it happens in the presence of someone I don't give a fuck about. I didn't care if this was a young child at my mercy.

I was supporting The Joker. I don't need to say more than that.

My head became a boulder of insanity, like it had been previously when I'd been in for the kill, but I knew I couldn't kill the boy. If he was to be killed, The Joker would do it.

_Show the worthless child who not to mess with, Jane_.

"Look at me, you little shit," I sneered at the boy, keeping the knife at his face. "Now, let's be truthful about this, shall we? Oh, shh, shh…don't cry now, come on, Junior…now, tell Princess Jane the truth. Why did you try and run away, huh?"

"I-I-I was scared!" the boy cried.

"Scared? _Scared_?" I snickered. "I would have thought the son of a cop wouldn't be scared of anything! Were you scared of that nasty video Harley showed you, hmm? Or was it, in fact, just Harley Quinn herself?" I laughed at my own little joke. The boy nodded, trembling from every inch of his squirming body. "Aw, now, now…I must tell you, Junior. You are _very _foolish. That video is meant to show you what's in store for you, you understand? And running away just shows how much of a _coward _you are, doesn't it?! You wanna be brave for your pathetic father? Then he'd want you to be a _man _and look after his wife, your mommy, wouldn't he?! Instead, you _run away_!"

"Please…I…I just wanted to…" he quivered.

"You wanted to _what_, boy?!" I yelled. "Come on, spit it out! Don't be shy."

"I wanted to…get away…"

"You wanted to get _away_, hmm?!" I interrogated, using my breathy, girly voice that did confirm I sounded possessed. "How did you think _that _was a wise decision, then?" He didn't answer, just remained writhing and cowering before me. "Do you know what happens to hostages who try to escape?" I snapped, angrily. "You obviously _don't_, do you? I wouldn't underestimate me, little boy, because I'm a girl. I may be a woman, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be soft and nice with you, okay?"

"Please, I…I won't do it again…please don't hurt me!" he squeaked, miserably.

I cackled into his face.

"You know something?" I growled, my face inches away from his. Spit was flowing out my lips as I continued to unleash the monster onto the boy. I was so furious, I couldn't put it into words. The argument with Chase hadn't helped me, either. "Your daddy is a foolish man, thinking he can make this City be _good _when all this murder and crime is going on. Thinking he could protect _you _and the rest of the Gordon clan through all of this. I heard your daddy order for the Batman to come to the location your sister was at to come and rescue her _backside _and he never even turned up! _That _says a lot, don't it? Has he _given up_, do you reckon?!"

"N-No!" he wailed.

"Course he has. He's probably hiding behind himself now he's admitted to breaking his rule. That's what The Joker said, that Batman crossed the line. Did you know that, hmm?"

"I…I don't know anything!" the boy trembled.

"Your father is the commissioner, you know all _about _the Batman!" I yelled.

"My dad works with him…and I know that Batman is good man no matter what!"

I snickered loudly again. My voice was suffocating and warm on his face, because I could feel it as I began to chuckle, nastily, into his helpless, petrified expression.

I loved this expression ever since I saw it on Alex's face two years before. It yelled to me that I was in control, and _I _was achieving something. Dad always knew I loved it when I was in control of my victims. He did _see _it, after all.

"Good man, is he?" I mocked. "Yeah, crossing the line of _death_ makes him someone this City can _trust_. Huh! Bless you, Junior, trying to be intimidating to me and trying to be _so _brave! Don't underestimate my strength, you little brat. I may be a _girl_, but I can be just as sick-minded as that clown, you know? The clown that you saw beat up your little sister? Yeah, that's the one." He dared to squirm frantically, facing away from me for a slight second. A bolt of anger darted through my veins. "Look _at me_!" I bellowed. "You little _shit_!"

"I'm sorry!" he whined, pathetically.

I smirked. "Huh, you should _never _disrespect a princess, Jimmy Junior. Even your daddy would respect a princess. You wanna be like him when you grow up, doncha? Huh?" He just simply sobbed his obnoxious eyes out. "_Do you_?!" I shouted.

"Y-Yes!" he howled.

"There we go. Do you know what commissioners get, little boy, huh? Something similar to criminals, actually. Battle scars. Loads of 'em." He suddenly screamed, deafeningly. I grunted just as loud and dug the knife into his young flesh. The end of the blade I kept prodded into his soft, but tear-sticky left cheek. "Shut _up_! Shut it, you spoiled little freak! Look at _me_! You're just as idiotic as your father, you know! Secretly a coward with nothing but a terrified, corrupted soul!"

_Show him not to mess with Jane, do it now!_

With the boy still continuing to scream and kick his legs desperately, I pulled down his shirt, ferociously, revealing his left shoulder.

_Torture him, torture him now! _they ordered.

"Yeah, I _know _I'm twisted before your start screaming it out of your nasty little mouth!" I snorted. "I work for a clown maniac! What do you _expect_?! And because I'm loyal to him, because he's _right_…I'm gonna ask what _he _wants to know! Now. Do you think Batman is Gotham's saviour? _Do you_?" He couldn't answer me because he was gasping for air, attempting to answer, but he just came out with strangled cries. My mind became more and more fierier, so of course I couldn't even start to sympathise with him. "_Answer _me, you fucking brat!" I yelled, hysterically. "Do you think he's a saviour or Gotham's better off without him?!" Still no answer and just more writhing around. I exploded into a complete demonic presence. "_Answer me or I'll make a start to your commissioner BATTLE SCARS_!"

"He…he's a…a saviour!" little James wept.

"Then you've been corrupted by your father into believing _shit_!" I screamed. "_My _daddy _always _told me the cruel truth, boy! That this world…is pure madness. It's dark. It has no morality. But you won't believe that, because you believe the Batman will come and save your sorry little backside every time, because that's what your daddy's told you! Well, guess what, Jimmy Junior? He hasn't come _this time_, has he?!"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing, callously.

"Please let me go!" the boy pleaded, still wriggling around. "Let me, and my mom _and _my sister go! And my daddy! My dad will _never _help someone like _you _and that horrid clown!"

"We don't want his _help_!" I screamed with laughter. "That's so sweet, thinking we'd want his help. Nah-uh. We're just trying to show him the _truth _that he's _blind _to! And the day is coming when he's going to realise it! Now, enough _talking_. Let's start the _punishing_. Say sorry to me, first. For running away." I lowered my knife until the cool metal was now on the boy's shoulders. He remained gasping in my mercy. "Say it!" I hissed. "Now!"

"I'm sorry…" he whimpered.

_Torture the worthless little brat. He's worth **nothing**. _

I gave the boy a large smirk. My father was now coming out of me more than ever, and by my father, I mean, The Joker. Not Jack Napier.

Jack Napier was the father of Shaylee. Joker was the father of Jane. That simple.

"Sorry, _who_?" I scolded, now starting to dig the knife into his shoulder. He howled so loudly I thought the roof might cave in on us both. "Say, 'I'm sorry Princess _Jane_'! _Say it_!"

"I…I'm sorry!" he screamed.

With a low growl, I followed my head's instructions, and the demons started cheering when I began to create a beautiful scar on the boy's shoulder. One that matched my own, on my own left shoulder. The scar that brought back a thousand painful memories. Now the stupid little child would get just the same. He would know what it feels like.

"_Sorry who_?!" I snarled again. "_Who_?!"

I didn't even have to dig it into his soft skin hard, I just simply had to let it drag down his shoulder, and immediate blood started oozing out. The blood was bright crimson, even brighter than the colour of the room around me. It started dripping down his flesh, and the faster it raced down, the louder the little boy wailed in my mercy. He clawed onto me, to try and make me stop, but I easily pushed his small hands away, before jabbing his head down onto the floor and keeping it there by my own claw on his thick hair. I watched his sticky, raw tears stream down his little cheeks. There was no escaping now!

_Look at the stupid boy, so pathetic_, they laughed, evilly. _Seeing him suffer is so beautiful, isn't it?_

"I'll stop when you say it," I said, shocked at how calm my voice came out.

His scream was so piercing. I thought my ears were going to start bleeding just as much as the boy's shoulder. I was convinced the boy's screams would split my ears right open, maybe even to let the voices escape forever. Little James Gordon was screaming so loudly, that it almost became like it was only sound in the world to me at that moment. It was blood-curdling, echoing through what appeared to be every room of the abandoned hotel. It made my own blood start to stream faster through my veins, with excitement and determination, until I could feel it pumping out of my hand, which clung onto the knife. The adrenaline was at its highest point now. The disturbing and twisted pleasure to be a vile animal, had been beckoning to be unleashed since I saw The Joker torture Bobbi Gordon. Now I'd let it escape from my mad system, and seeing the blood stream from the scar I was creating, just made my head throb with insanity and my adrenaline rush faster, creating that annoyingly addictive evil desire to kill escape me, only this time, it was torture, not murder.

It felt so ridiculously amazing that I cackled the whole way through it, like I was an evil, convincing monster. I had a sudden beastly laugh that echoed along with James Junior's screams. It was so disturbing, even to me, but I just couldn't stop.

After I'd completed my work, I scowled down at the little boy, who continued to howl in agonising pain, despite the knife not even touching him anymore. I still, however, kept it close to his face.

"_Say it_!" I ordered.

"I…" He gasped for a giant burst of air. "I'm sorry, Princess Jane…for running away!"

"_Good boy_," I muttered. "Now. You've learnt your lesson, I suppose. Oh shh…now come on…it won't hurt for much longer. Trust me, okay? _I know_. It heals _dead_…quickly. Shh, shh…stop your whimpering, and keep _still_, for God's sake!" I pinned him down to the floor by his hair again, to restrain him, but he kept on racking the walls of the hotel, until they were about to collapse. I don't know how he had anymore scream left inside of him, and oddly enough, he screamed exactly the same as his sister, Bobbi. "Shut _up_!" I shouted. "Shut it, you _brat_!" I groaned deeply, lowering my voice, which had now become raspy from yelling so much. "I guess the only way to shut you up is to get you back to that room with your mommy," I hissed at the boy, sounding like a strict teacher. "Now, you gonna be a good boy and stay _put_? Because if you don't, next time it'll be even _worse_, you understand, Junior? Huh?"

He slowly nodded his quivering head. I patted my gloved finger on his wound and wiped some of the blood away for him, his blood joining the gang of other blooded stains already on my gloves from killing Kayley. Junior moaned in agony, but I soon shut him up by backhanding him several times. I was used to slapping boys around the face. I hadn't just done it to Chase, I'd hit many other boys in my lifetime, particularly when I went out doing crime and they wouldn't hand me over their money.

I got off the boy and quickly grabbed him by his hair before he ran away. I started pushing him towards the door that Harley had left ajar.

_Well done, Jane, _they congratulated.

_Shaylee, look at yourself! _The sweeter voice decided to make an appearance. _You're better! Stop now, before you fall into complete darkness._

"_Shut up_!" I grunted, as I marched the boy down the corridor back towards the cellar his mother was in. I had to break us both as I stared into space, to try and make them disappear. "Please, just shut up…" I breathed.

"I…I didn't say anything…" the boy whined.

"You can shut up and _all_!" I barked at him.

I groaned in my paranoid frustration and continued to push him back down to where we'd come from. He was still crying nonstop, but I could barely hear him over my stupid head.

When we finally reached back down to the cellar, we entered to find James pulling the wife back by her hair, and Harley pacing, or rather skipping, around the room, holding onto a large gun which she seemed to lift smoothly. Chase was nowhere to be seen.

"…and that's when it got _serious_!" she was going on, with wide eyes. "He told me…he didn't _wanna _be that guy anymore, like he told me _years _before, an' something more _frightening_. More badass, more harmful. He inspired me to be _this way_…"

"Harley!" I yelled.

She darted around and looked surprised to see us.

"Oh, heya, Princess Janey," she smiled. "Decided to pop in _now_, have we? Where've ya been? This vid can't stay on pause _forever_!"

I glanced at the small TV to see that the video was paused, a still of The Joker displaying the baseball bat at the camera.

"Been teaching this little _boy_ a thing or two," I replied. "Now he knows for sure never to try and run away again."

"Ah, well, give him here, and let's finish this little video, shall we?" Harley giggled.

"Yes, _please_," James moaned.

I pushed the boy forward towards Harley and she sharply grabbed him, forcing him down onto his chair, where James proceeded to tie him up again.

"You two are a disgrace!" the wife suddenly cried out. "You're a couple of brainwashed, vile thugs!"

"Aw, thanks," Harley cracked up laughing.

"Harley?" I asked.

"What?" she sighed.

"Where's Chase?" I questioned.

"Still in that other room, I think, probably drinking himself silly. Probably drowned himself in that bottle."

"I'm going to check on him. Call me if The Joker rings."

Harley nodded and I stormed out of the room, taking my knife as I left. I made my way into the other room, where my feet skidded to a horrified stop.

Chase's body was motionless on the floor, looking mangled, facing away from me on his side. I saw his vodka bottle was lying beside him. I felt my heart miss several beats.

_He's dead._

"No…" I whispered, shaking my head. "He's not…he's just…he's just passed out."

_He's dead._

"Shut up…_please_…" I found my voice cracked. My feet started dragging over to his body. "Chase…" I collapsed beside him. "Chase?" I rolled him over, where I saw drool scattered down his cheek from where his mouth was. The foul stench of alcohol was steaming from him, a smell that brought back devastating memories for me. I panted heavily, and started shaking his broad shoulders. "Chase? Chase!" I flopped my head onto his chest, waiting for that heartbeat to come. "Come on…come on…"

_It's over. This is end._

I listened for it desperately, my breath quickening, as my schizoid paranoia made these false claims, triggering my heart onto full-speed. Then I reached out for his hand and pressed my finger down on his wrist.

The heavens opened when I felt his pulse was pumping.

"Oh thank goodness!" I exclaimed. I shook him hard again. "Chase, wake up!" I saw his eye twitch slightly, as a little moan escaped his lips. "Wake _up_!" I had no choice but to slap him lightly on his cheek. He groaned quietly. "Wake up, you klutz, come on."

Chase started to squirm slightly, and I moved away from him.

"Shaylee…" he mumbled.

"Yeah, Chase, it's me…Shaylee…" I gasped at the use of my real name. "Chase, please, come on…"

He moaned in his intoxicated state, and began to try and lift himself up, now fluttering his eyes open. For some unknown reason, I helped him, and soon he was slightly sat up, leaning on his elbows. He coughed but made a heaving noise at the same time. I winced and rose to my feet as I backed away, hoping he wasn't going to throw up all over the floor.

"Shay, I…" he grumbled. "Uhh…I dunno…"

"Oh my god, Chase…"

He rubbed his hand through his face as he lay on his back again. Wiping his face, he covered himself with his hands, groaning into them.

"Fuck," he cursed, muffled into his hands.

I was fighting so hard not to become emotional. I was battling myself _not _to become Shaylee again. I gazed at him for ages as he just lay there, I presumed trying to wake himself up.

"What were you _doing_?" I demanded, trying not to cry. I folded my arms in an attempt to be impassive, but I couldn't stop my heart from beating my mental head for just a slight moment. "Chase…why…?" I sighed. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry." I now heard he had started crying horribly into his hands.

"Don't cry!" I shouted, now suddenly becoming abhorrent again. "Chase, what were you _doing_? Where'd you even _get _that bottle of vodka anyway?!"

"My dad," he mumbled.

"What?!"

"My dad gave me it, okay?"

"Why?!"

"I don't know."

"Chase, get up and _look at me_!" His arms fell beside him, and he struggled upwards, groaning several times. He coughed and spluttered as he staggered to his feet, and looked at me blankly. I saw him cling onto the counter in order to stay upright. "Chase…do you _know _what that stuff does to you?" I asked, seriously.

"Of course I do," he muttered. "It gets you drunk."

"Don't try and be all cocky with me!" I yelled.

"Ah, shut up, Shaylee."

"It's _Jane_! How many _times _do I have to remind you?!"

"You're practically Shaylee, though," he slurred. "The way you're screaming at me right now, yet again, it's just Shaylee, not that psychotic Jane Price you make out to be!"

I saw red. It made me launch myself at him. I grabbed his collar and backed him up against the counter.

"I _am _Jane Price, Chase," I sneered. "Don't even bring that miserable _Shaylee _into it, because I _hate _being the emotional wreck _she _was. You can't do anything about it. And because I _am _her, I can do whatever I _please _to you, you hear? I can do whatever I want to _anyone_. The Joker's given me freedom. But you know what? I choose _not _to harm you because for some reason, I _can't _because you still, oddly enough, make me _care _about you! I don't know what it is! I _know _you've been drinking a lot recently…why is that, Chase? Is it because you're depressed? Well, you know what? I _won't _hold back from hurting you…_badly_…if you keep passing out and…and…_reminding _me of the past! Because–"

"Reminding you of your past?"

"My _mom_!" I cried. "That stuff _ruined _my mom's life! If she wasn't murdered she would have _died _from it anyway! So don't be a fool, you hear?" I sighed, letting go of Chase's collar. I stared deep into his pretty eyes, which were still bloodshot from his drinking. "I'm scared I'm going to get…so crazy that…I'll just end up killing you and…look, Chase, I…I may be losing my mind a little, and…"

"I know you are. You didn't think I heard what you were doing up there to that little boy? I just couldn't…it was disgusting. _Disgusting_. Awful!"

"Oh and what? You started gulping down a whole bottle because I was torturing the son of the man we're after?"

"I had to block it out, I…I just couldn't…"

"So you passed yourself out on purpose?"

"Yeah…I couldn't listen to that _atrocity_. You may not have thought I couldn't hear it, but the kid was screaming so loud, I could…"

"Chase, get over it, okay? And for God's _sake_…don't even think about starting to get me emotional, and stop making me _care_! I don't want to be. I don't care about anyone anymore. Only…you and my dad. You hear? I don't have sympathy for _anyone_. Not even a child. It's impossible for me to feel it. I just _can't_. And I don't care that I can't, okay? I'm Jane Price, and Jane Price is a murderous bitch who shows _no signs _of empathy."

Having delivering the last speech to Chase, I walked away, slamming the door behind me.

I stood in between the two rooms, staying very still. It seemed like there was not a sound anywhere. I couldn't get my head round what situation I was in. I still couldn't quite grasp the concept of my mind. Okay, well I knew very well how sick and a violent thug I was, now I was Jane Price, but whenever I was with Chase, I just became Shaylee again. Straight away. It just sort of happened. It was something he did to me that just made me go back to being Shaylee and my mind completely being free, not making me feel like I was slowly becoming mad. I can't be _that _bad, if I still cared about him, right?

You probably think I'm being ridiculous. How I can still genuinely care about someone, yet for 95% of the time, I was a violent, fanatic supporter of crime and merciless revenge? I had made a deal, remember, that Chase's family would not be harmed. I wasn't prepared to break my promise at all.

Although, I did start to think, at that moment, right there, Chase's life was actually in grave danger. If The Joker saw him drinking, he'd be bringing up the past, and that would be it, the end of him. In fact, The Joker just needed to see him being weak and he'd be dead before he knew it.

I didn't want Chase to die. I wanted to treasure the fact I could still care about someone, while my mind was just a little sane. If Chase died, that would be the ultimate end of me. It would be like letting an even more mirthless, insane monster let loose on Gotham.

It would really be letting Joker Junior free.

I cascaded into such thoughts, I didn't hear Harley calling my name in the room to my right. I jumped a mile when she bolted out of the room.

"Jane! Didn't ya hear me?!" she demanded.

"No," I said, blankly.

"Mister J's calling!" she hissed. I hadn't noticed her cell phone was in her hand and she lifted it up. It vibrated loudly, before Harley answered the call and put it on loudspeaker. "Hey, puddin'!" she cooed.

"My faithful companions," he teased down the phone. "Is it done? Have they watched my performance?"

"Just finished now, lovely," Harley answered, breathlessly.

"You sound outta breath, Harls."

"I am. Gordon's wife is a nasty-mouthed girl. I just had to show her who's boss."

"Oh, I see. Why have you only just finished the video _now_, huh?"

"We had a little runaway boy that kinda interrupted it," I explained. "Don't worry, though. I got him back and sure as hell showed him _why _he shouldn't run away again!"

"Yeah, she _scarred _the poor kid!" Harley laughed. "He screamed the walls in, didn't he, Jane?!"

"I'll say," I chuckled.

"Not very ladylike, you two, are ya?" Joker sniggered. "Anyway, women, listen up. Are the Delanceys still with you?"

"Yeah, they're high as fuck," I said.

"Hmm. Well, tell 'em we're on our way. With the girl."

"What about the commissioner?" Harley asked.

"_All _will be revealed in good time!" he snapped. "Just prepare yourselves because I'm coming down. The hostages better be alive when I come down there."

"Ah, don't worry, they're very much alive!" Harley jeered. "Cryin' like little babies, they are!"

"Good…good. So, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," we chorused.

"Byee!"

The line died.

"Well, he sounds happy," I said, sarcastically.

"Nah, he's probably just got his concentrated mind on," Harley said.

"Concentrated mind?"

"Ya know…something on his mind…something _good_!"

"Ah."

"What's up with _you_?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Looks like ya lost your spirit all of a sudden."

"I'm fine, Harley. I'm just a bit confused."

"Confused?"

"About myself."

"Whatcha mean?"

"I mean…one minute I feel like I'm…you know…Jane, but then there comes that rare moment when I turn into Shaylee again. I don't know. I don't like it. It only happens when Chase is around. I'll be myself again when Joker arrives, anyway."

"Yourself, as in…?"

"_Princess Jane_."

"Okay, okay, chill, Pricey. Hmm…yeah I know where ya comin' from. Just because we change our identities and have aliases don't mean we don't feel like our _real selves _sometimes. Even I feel it sometimes."

"Do you really?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm tellin' ya…sometimes Harleen _pops _outta me like a _firework_! But it only lasts for two secs, anyway. I guess it shows we're not totally mad though, don't it?"

I stared at her. "Uh…yeah…I guess. But I wish it didn't happen."

"You're young, Princess Jane. It's bound to happen to _you_. Besides, being Harley and Jane is better, ain't it?"

"Yeah!"

"Killing and doing crime is _so _much better than bein' a _fool _and watch all the citizens run around tellin' ya what you _should _be doin'. No one deserves that."

"Killing shouldn't be so much, though, should it, Harley?"

"It's what's _behind _the kill that makes it more fun. Eventually it just becomes natural."

"But…that's horrifying."

"Maybe so. But why should we care?"

"I don't."

"There you go then. Doncha get such a rush from killing? Mister J rubs it off on me, I tell ya."

"Yeah…yeah you're right. I do get a rush. I guess it's because I'm gaining revenge and…that's what I want."

I found myself now smiling at Harley, who was grinning deviously at me.

"Exactly!" she squeaked. "I may look dumb, Jane, but I'm not. I'm just a little _ditzy_!" She giggled and made her way back into the room with James and the hostages, leaving the door right open so I could witness the action. "Now, you guys, your little Bobbi is on her way with The Joker, so no need to worry anymore."

"You lot are sick, murdering freaks!" Barbara shouted, hysterically.

"That's so _rude_!" Harley shrieked.

"She's right, you know," I said, making my way in. "It's rude to call someone those kind of names."

Harley was just as bad as The Joker. She rubs insanity on me straight away. At that moment I was still completely baffled with myself, but in seconds I became Princess Jane again, like it was now natural for her to control my system, like Harley controlled Harleen's and The Joker controlled dad's. Jane had took over almost fully after I had that shocking mental attack night of the day I got raped.

And don't you think _that _ever left my mind. It still kept coming back to me. It always came when I was at my most insane. It even yapped on in my mind when I was maliciously scarring little Jimmy.

"But you are sick!" the wife retorted. "Sick in the head!"

I glared at her. She'd really pushed her luck in a mere two seconds flat. Harley began to look worried.

"I'm not _sick_!" I screamed at her. My feet sprang into action and I went to punch her face in, but Harley straddled me back with her arms. "No! Harley get off me!" I hissed. "I'm not _sick_! And even if I was, would it matter?!"

"She's not worth it, PJ," Harley said, quietly. "Mister J will brutalise her, don't you worry."

My lips pursed into a small smirk, and my whole relaxed. Knowing The Joker was going to torture her like he did Bobbi, I was happy knowing.

We got prepared for The Joker's arrival. I collected Chase, who was still heavily intoxicated with alcohol, and Harley disposed of the bottle out of the window. We kept the hostages firmly in place, James and Chase keeping guns to each of their heads to make sure. Harley, like she was the boss, paced around the room and interrogated them about Batman, while I, now, for some disturbing reason, was fully invested in the mind of Princess Jane, watched this scene of humiliation, sitting on the floor, and rocking back and forth on my crossed legs.

I wasn't even startled when we heard the sound of The Joker and the other thugs bashing down the flight of stairs. It alarmed the hostages, however, making Harley and I splutter into girly giggles.

The Joker demonically stood in the doorway, holding Bobbi Gordon close to him, with a knife to her throat.

"Bobbi!" the wife cried.

"Mom!" Bobbi whimpered.

Surprisingly, Joker pushed the girl towards her mother and she flung herself onto her, throwing her arms around her neck. They both sobbed miserably.

"Alright, enough of these touching family reunions," The Joker said, darkly. "James, tie her up, and make sure it's tight."

James immediately grabbed the wailing girl and pinned her to the radiator, slamming her wrists against it and tying her up like a helpless damsel in distress. The Joker then waltzed swiftly into the room. Harley and I instantly stepped back and obediently allowed him all the space.

"P-Please don't hurt her…" Barbara pleaded to the clown before her.

"I think I've hurt her _enough_, haven't I?" The Joker replied, licking his lips. "I must say, uh…your little girl is much of a fighter. So brave. You must be the commissioner's wife, am I correct?" She didn't even answer, and just remained glaring up at him, as he now became closer to her. The children shuddered before us all, making my adrenaline start to throb into my head, until it reached the core of my scalp. It made me unable to sit still. "I must say, he has good taste, my darling," Joker chuckled, making all the other thugs laugh, too, like it was rehearsed. "How did he manage to pull a woman as gorgeous as you, eh?"

He began to lightly stroke her face with the back of his gloved hand, but she sharply flinched away, before attempting to spit in his face.

"Don't you _dare _touch me, you maniac!" she screeched.

The Joker then stared at her, utterly expressionless for a few moments. It almost looked like he was having an unexpected flashback.

"Ya know…I love a feisty woman…" he went on. "A woman who can…fight. Hold her own. I guess you wear the trousers in your marriage, hmm?" He chuckled, cruelly. He then looked towards the boy. "And you, my boy…I've heard from my little Princess Jane you tried to run away. Is that the truth, son?"

"He's _not _your son!" the wife snapped.

"Ah, no…I never had a son, actually," The Joker recalled, licking his scars again. "Shame really. Did that meanie Jane over there give you a good talking to? Show you…_why_…you shouldn't do it…_again_?" Little James tensely nodded his head. "Oh I am glad. Because children need to know the rules." He glanced over his hunched shoulder, and looked at me blankly. His eyes read nothing. "Princess Jane," he said.

"Yes, boss?" I answered, immediately.

"Whatever did you do to the little boy, hmm?"

"May I be blunt?"

"Be blunt. Of course."

"I tortured him."

A thug wolf-whistled. The Joker whizzed his head towards him, raising his knife, which was shaking in his eager hand. I bet he wished he had a gun at that moment.

"Excuse me," he said, importantly. "Shut up." He then addressed me again. "Good girl," he said, softly. His face still remained unreadable, but I beamed back at him.

"What have you done with my husband?" the woman piped up again, now starting to wriggle in her seat.

"Stay still, woman!" James snarled, pulling her hair back and jabbing his gun back into the side of her head.

The Joker gave him a grateful nod.

"Your husband, angel face, is completely unharmed," The Joker answered. "Isn't that nice of me? Me and him…we had a big long conversation after I fought with your little girl. Did you see that, by the way?"

"Yes, we did, you vile clown!" she yelled.

"Ah-da-da-da…now, now…let's not me upset, shall we?" The Joker chuckled, his voice now becoming his baritone 'dad' voice again. "James…let her go."

He started itching his fingers in between his knife, like he was desperate to use it. I looked carefully to see his eyelids aggressively twitching. I presumed his own voices were having an argument. His lips were licked again, as he tried to hold back digging the knife into her, because I could just tell by his gestures he was fighting to not kill. I guessed that's what it was like as a psychopath. Constantly on a swirl of adrenaline and wanting to kill every minute of the day.

Although I loved the adrenaline rush, I couldn't help but be a little grateful I wasn't at that stage. The stage of pure psychopathy.

Barbara howled when The Joker suddenly grabbed her face, forcing her to look at his painted features, using the knife to make her look at him. The children started to scream as well, but of course Joker seemed oblivious to it all. Instead, James hushed them both, making his son point his gun at Bobbi, and he grabbed little James Gordon Junior and dug the gun into his head again.

"I just wanna inform of you of what's happening," The Joker growled. "Look at me, gorgeous. You may like whatcha see." He let out a low, raspy snigger as Gordon's wife had no choice but to continue looked at him. She winced at the sight of him, I guessed because of his horrid breath and rotting yellow teeth. "You wanna know what's happening?" Joker went on. "A little note for you and your kids. Now, me and the commissioner had a good talking, and we were discussing…he cares very much for you. He would do _anything _for his little wife and kids. I wouldn't believe he'd do _anything_, but he argued that he's a family man first, a commissioner second. I thought at a time like this he'd put _all _his duties as a cop first, because you never know who I might go on and kill next, hmm? I mean, just look at what I'm doing, and it _will _get worse. It will, lady. Your husband didn't believe me…but let's see if _you _do, huh?"

"Wha…what have you done?" she whispered, her voice shaking just as much as her children's bodies were.

"Keep your mouth shut, and I'll tell ya," he snorted, still pushing her head around. The knife was practically digging into the side of her lip. "And don't stare at my scars. I know they're horrifying _enough_!" There was a deadly silence as his yell echoed, and still kept echoing inside my head when it was over. "Now. Remember several nights ago when poor Rachel Dawes was _blown up_? Yeah. 52nd Street, your so-called hero of a hubby allowed her to die." He raised his eyebrows, arrogantly at her. "You remember? Yeah. Because your husband is a little schemer trying to make _everything _work, _everyone _in this City knows that not _everything _can go to plan, right? Rachel's death was just an unfortunate mishap. Now, I'm a man whose past keeps getting brought up all the time…in my _mind_. I shouldn't have to be the _only one _having to be reminded of their past mistakes. So that's why, tomorrow night, at 11pm, I've asked Gordon to come _back _to 250, 52nd Street. Now, don't you worry, we're going to go there too. Gordon is so besotted with you three he'd do anything to keep your sorry lives with 'im. If he doesn't show up at 11pm sharp at the location, you _get killed _immediately. By me. Stabbed." He relished a small smirk. "Gone. However, if he _does _turn up sharply and on time, I'll give him a choice. It's between you three, or seeing some innocent, uh…_people_…be blown to Timbuktu. Now, that won't be _my _fault. I'll pass him the detonator, and I'll say, 'Blow them up, or I stab the three of them to death, in front of you.' _Then _we'll just see…if he has a plan _then_, huh?"

"Not if the Batman is on his side!" she hissed.

"I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the Batman is nowhere to be seen at the moment," Joker said, his voice now shaking with twisted excitement. "Your foolish husband asked if Batman could come to the location your little girl was at and he never showed up!"

I grinned broadly. I _knew _I was right.

"W-What?" the wife spluttered.

"That's right. Seems to _me_…that Batsy's gone missing. If he does show up though, I'd be thrilled. But do you understand what's gonna happen, now, hmm? I'm going to make your husband choose, sweet cheeks. Between saving his precious little family, or becoming Gotham's biggest enemy by choosing to _blow up _so many citizens. Ha! He'll be even _more _hated than a guy like _me_! Think of the chaos, Mrs Gordon."

"You _disgusting_ man…you…you won't get away with this!" she spluttered.

The Joker and all the thugs, including me, burst into laughter.

"Funny, I already _have_!" he cackled. He finally released her, and starting stalking around her and the boy, examining every inch of them. "Oh and another thing, I've told Gordon if he can at least _find _the Batman and convince him to task of that mask of his and give him to _me_, then I've decided I'll release you immediately, and good old Batman will take your place and be killed instead. Hey, everyone's happy then, right? I get my, uh…my _fun_…while Gordon gets his family back, and Batman gets his humiliation over and _done _with!"

"And…and my husband _agreed _to this?!"

"We'll have to wait and see, won't we? Let's see what he decides to do. I've freed him, given him a day to think about it. So in no less than twenty four hours you'll see just how much of a, uh…a…_genius_…_I _am!"

His insane laughter run throughout the room, but this time it was only me and Harley who laughed with him. I guessed it was because we knew him the best out of anyone there and we weren't that petrified of his laughter of pure madness.

"You _are _a genius, puddin'!" Harley cried.

Joker fixated his dark pools of nothingness onto her sparkling sea-like orbs, as he faced her. I watched as he showed her a wide, toothy grin. He seemed proud of the scars he had made on her face.

"Why thank you, pooh," he whispered. He pinched her nose, so violently, she jerked away and clung onto her nose, making me laugh hysterically. He turned back towards the hostages, who had suddenly become lost for words. "Appears to me, you know what the routine is. Harley?" Harley was busy moaning and rubbing her nose. "Harley!" he snapped.

"Yeah?" she mumbled.

"Come here…" he beckoned, mockingly. Harley grunted and walked as close to him as she could. Joker forced her hand off her nose and suddenly pinned her against the wall by her wrists. Harley squealed with joy, because she thought she was going to get a kiss. She thought wrong. "Listen here," he said, in his strict 'dad' voice, except it was much more terrifying now. "You _always _tell me that I need to give you _more _responsibilities in this gang. True or false, Harls?"

"True," she grinned.

"Well, here's ya chance, girly. You're in charge of keeping this family under control until tomorrow night, when I call ya, and you bring them to 250, 52nd Street immediately, because _I _can't do it if I'm gonna have a little bit of a hostage-collecting spree–"

"What am _I_ 'sposed to do for all that time?!" she demanded.

Joker lowered his voice considerably, but I still managed to hear his muttering.

"Whatever you like, as long as you don't kill 'em. Hmm? You know something, Harley? You're the same age as me, yet sometimes you act like a little _child_. A lot of the time I can't _stand _you. Only when you're obedient. So you wanna be for me, then?"

"Uh-huh…" she whined.

"Good. So _do it_." He let her go and pushed her hard towards the hostages, almost making her fall on top of Bobbi completely. "Now, Gordon family, Harley will, uh…nah 'look after' is the wrong term, uhh…she will _be here _to make sure you don't escape. Oh and Harley, no food or water for these lot."

"You're sick!" the wife sobbed.

Before Joker could make a move on her, Harley revealed a switch-blade knife and dug into the woman's neck from behind, chuckling like a maniac.

"Hey, shut it, missy!" she hissed. "_I'm_ sick…yeah, of hearing your voice!"

"That's more like it, Harley," Joker said.

Harley beamed at him, smugly. Joker then shot his head towards James and he outstretched his hand, and waggled his fingers, beckoningly. He lifted his eyebrows, expectantly, and James immediately handed over his gun. Joker fidgeted with it, before he glanced over at me. Yet again his eyes read nothing, but he just kept on staring at me, flatly. His face was stony but at the same time, he looked sort of innocent and lost. Well, he _was _a lost soul. His war paint had become distorted, like his bad breath.

Suddenly he asked, "James, where's your son?" not even turning around to face him, just still gazing at me with a watchful snake eye.

"Uhh…" James muttered.

"I'm here," a garbled voice came.

We all turned to see Chase was now standing behind all the other thugs in the hallway, and peeped his head through so The Joker could see him clearly. The Joker, just simply nodded, and remained scarily composed.

I couldn't take my eyes off Chase, who had come out of the other room, so silently. I remained staring at him, even when Mikey started to speak from behind his clown mask.

"So Joker, what now?" he questioned.

I finally looked back at my psychopathic father, very tensely.

I wasn't quite sure why the atmosphere in the room had become so penetratingly tense, so much so the hostages weren't even yelling out their pleas anymore.

"What do you think?" The Joker said, in his sly 'clown' voice. "We start work. Now."

I knew I should have instantly started panicking, but for some out of the blue reason, I grinned at all the other thugs.

"What?" Mikey stammered.

"You know me. I don't hang around," The Joker went on. "Let's start work, gentlemen. Let's go get some hostages, my good men, huh?" I coughed, quietly. His head went back to me, so sharply I thought his neck might've cracked into two. "Ah, no, no…not you, little one," Joker said, now beginning to slump towards me.

"W-What?" I moaned. "Why?"

"Shh, shh…I'll tell you in a second. Be patient." He patted my cheek, with his knife-yielded hand. "Okay?"

I nodded vigorously, still smiling at him.

"Mister J?" Harley suddenly twittered. She was still holding a knife to Barbara's throat.

"What?" Joker asked, not turning around. He still engrossed his stare into my eyes which were the same as his.

"May I have a little word with ya first?" she inquired, politely.

"No," he answered.

"_Please_…it's important!"

"How important?"

"Very important."

"Even more important than my _routine_, Harley?"

He finally staggered around to face her.

"Uh-huh."

He groaned deeply, and then made us all have our hearts inside our mouths when he randomly fired a bullet.

"Outside, hurry, all of you!" he suddenly barked, making them all scatter up the stairs, including James, who followed them. Chase was about to follow his father, but Joker sprang over and pulled him into the room with us by husr shirt and threw him aggressively down on the floor, like he was in a street fight. "Oh, no, _you_, my agile young fellow, you're not joining _us_," he declared. "You stay here for a minute."

By now I was completely puzzled.

"Joker, what are you setting off to do, exactly?" I asked, bravely.

"Doncha listen, Princess Jane?" he asked, facing me again. "We're heading on a little rampage. We _can't _give Gordon his family back without collecting some hostages for him to _blow up_ first, can we, now?" He spluttered into sinister sniggers. "Plus, I have to collect more men. Like I said a few nights ago, PJ, I've been _abandoned _since Harvey Dent's poor unfortunate death, so now I have to collect, young, fit _bait _like you two. Now, I, uh…have an, ah…a little _ordeal _for yourself and Chase…"

"What about our _conversation_?!" Harley interrupted, impatiently, who now appeared at his side.

She was answered with a smashing backhand to her face and then a hard kick in the stomach, once she was on the floor. I bit my lip to hold back the laughter, but Chase just looked horrified, as usual.

"You two, wait outside, now," The Joker instructed.

I pulled Chase outside the door with me, nearly crashing his head into the wall. I exploded into giggles as the door was slammed after us.

"What's so funny?!" he hissed.

"Shh! Chase be quiet!" I snickered.

"_You _be quiet!"

"Hey, calm your shit, Chase." I quietened my voice until it was just a raucous as The Joker's. "If he hears us we're dead meat."

"We're dead meat _anyway_," he grumbled.

"Oh, Chase, it seems your balls aren't as big as I thought, hmm?" I joked.

"Shut up."

It was amazing how we couldn't barely hear anything that was said. Well, I wasn't surprised, Harley and the others couldn't hear Chase and I hammering at each other before. I just hoped Harley wasn't saying anything stupid in there, as the hostages could hear every word, but if she did, The Joker would kill her in seconds flat anyway.

It wasn't long before the door creaked open again, and Joker stepped out of the room, shutting the door, surprisingly silently, behind him.

"Chase, go upstairs and find a room to stay in for the night, like a good lad," he said, calmly. Chase made one sound and The Joker pushed him backwards, with the gun firmly into his chest. "Don't question it." He gave him that sociopathic stare, and Chase was soon sprinting up the stairs. "Now Jane," he addressed me, almost endearingly. "Shall we take a step in there?" He nodded towards the door behind me, the room me and Chase had argued in. "For a little _chat_?"

_You're in for it now_.

"Of course," I said, briskly, trying to ignore the voice.

I carried my feet into the room and The Joker followed me, again, shutting the door neatly behind him. He still had his gun in his hand. He stood abruptly in front of me, and without even thinking I looked up at him, but dared never to show weakness. My heart was thrashing its way out of my ribcage in his presence, like it always did, and my head shouting false things made fear cling onto it, too.

"Don't look so worried," he began, huskily. "Do you know what I'm about to say to you?"

"I have no idea," I answered.

"Hmm. Harley's got this idea that, uh…well, before she told me that you and she had a little conversation, correct?"

"Correct."

"And she said…you were a bit…confused."

"Uh, well…I, uh…"

"I thought _that_ was very strange, because over the past few days you haven't seem very confused to me."

"Confused about what?"

"You. Your, uh, so-called 'identity.'"

"I'm not confused!" I protested.

"No?" He let out a screeching little chuckle.

"No, I…why would she say _that_?"

"I'm not sure. But she told me…that you told _her_…sometimes you feel like that Shaylee girl comes back to haunt you, and she just comes out."

"But–"H

"Ah, ah, ah…" He gave me a stern dad look for a slight moment, and I couldn't help but look at him in awe. "Harley tells me you told her it comes out because Chase is with us, that _he _is the reason that sometimes you feel a little _helpless_."

"No! Never!" I persisted.

"Shut up. She, uh…she says she thinks you two had a little bit of a falling out this evening, huh?"

"Well…yeah…yeah, we did…" I murmured.

"I'm _sorry_?" he snapped.

"Yes we _did_," I said, clearer.

"Ah…yes. You see, now Harley isn't as stupid as you think. She's a highly intelligent woman. Like you. Being clever and being crazy, like her, is a dangerous mix, believe you me. She _knew _you had a little disagreement this evening while them lot were watching my video. She said she thought she could hear _something_. Now, if you tell me what you argued about it'll _disinterest _me, so I wouldn't start telling me with that big mouth of yours."

"I wasn't going to anyway."

He suddenly plunged the gun into my chest, making me wince.

"It wouldn't be wise to answer a man like me back, now, would it, Janey baby?" he asked. I shook my head. "Good. Now, don't you think I'm not going to do anything about this, Princess Jane. Your mind is still in the early stages of being super intelligent like mine. Right? It _still_ can't make up its mind. It _is _confused. Consider yourself lucky, Jane, I'm giving you all these chances, because…" He squinted his eyes in obvious frustration, and grunted under his breath. His eyes were firmly locked on mine, I couldn't look at anything else but his painted features and listen closely to his lecture. I'd gotten so used to this by now, it was almost like it was on my daily routine, to listen to this insane man, my father, words that sometimes seemed that only a true psychopath would say. He'd lingered off for several seconds, but he eventually found is darkened clown voice again. "Because, _normally_, no one _ever _gets through to me so much I give them endless chances to show their loyalty to _my _vision. So, let's think this through. It took me _two years _to fall…if you know what I mean." I knew instantly that was a lie. He'd shown signs of becoming The Joker even when mom was still alive, so he had been falling for much longer than two years. "_Nothing_…_Nothing _can make me go back to being that _coward _again," he continued, his voice dripping with pure hatred, and a tint of shame. "Because I've forgotten about him. It seems to me that, even though your mind has more or less taken over you and made you see the _light_, see what you need to do to this world of _chaos_…that just a _little _part of you _still _makes that girl come back…you know that girl? The one I thought I'd _lost_? Yeah, _her_."

"And I don't _want _her too!" I insisted, truthfully. "You _know _I don't! I'm not _her_, and I don't even know why we're discussing this. I follow you, and I am an unsympathetic, cold-hearted _killer_! I am!"

"So wonderful of you to admit it."

"But I am, you _know _I am and thanks to you I'm _good _at it! The whole City _knows _me and knows I support you! That little boy before was _terrified _of me! He was shrieking the _walls _down, you should have heard it!" I let out a little laugh. "You would have _loved _it!"

I was desperately trying to make the point I was not a weakling, as I was thinking this was exactly what The Joker thought.

"I'm sure I would have," The Joker said, smiling a little. "Tell me a bit more. What did you do to him?"

"I made a scar on his left shoulder," I explained, my voice shaking with what seemed like pure monstrosity. "I made the scar using a knife and I scarred it _beautifully _and saw him _suffer _from it! Like _I _did!"

"Hmm…good job. That's the sort of thing I'd like to see in _my _City. However, this isn't the point I'm trying to make, little princess."

"W-What point are you trying to make?" I demanded.

"When you're talking about torture, or _killing_...that's the girl I like to see. However, whenever Chase is mentioned, or whenever you're simply _around _him…you _change_. It seems like you can't stand the _sight _of him every time. You become…I don't know what…and I _know _you can't take it. All I want to see is that clever little murderer again. Hmm? I don't _want _you to be distracted by your own conscience! And…I _know_ I wasn't there that night when you killed Bradley, but I guess you got a tad bit, uh…what's that word I don't like?"

"Emotional?"

"Yeah, _that_. I bet you did get that. Didn't you?"

"Well…yes…I-I did…"

"Ah-hah!"

"But…but I can _change _that!" I exclaimed, frantically. "Honestly, I don't _want _to feel sympathy for _anyone _anymore! Why _should _I? It hurts too much to feel, it brings back too many painful memories that trigger my head, it…it puts a strain on my _mind_ and the memories stop me from getting what I _want_! My revenge! It's just something _he does _that stops that…it stops me from…"

"Being a killer?"

"Yeah…but…I don't know…"

"See? Just at the mention of that boy makes you go all _feely_!" He chucked, nastily. "So I've come up with a solution, which ties in _wonderfully _for what I was planning for you two to do anyway…"

My heart stopped.

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?"

"Hmm?"

"You're going to kill him."

"Is that what you _want _me to do?"

"N-No! I just thought…"

"Well, don't have another thought. Stop worrying, your highness. Smile a little more. Your mother would have wanted that. Smile for me, Jane." He licked his scars, as I managed a small grin. "_There _we are. There's that cheeky little smile I know so well! Now, listen to me. This is _all _going to be sorted out, my sweet pea. There's only one way to sort _all_ this out. Do you have any idea what that could be?"

I racked my throbbing brain hard.

"I…I guess…" I began.

"Yes?" Joker grinned. "Go on, go on!"

"I guess…thinking about what _you'd _do…you'd…want to break him?"

"Close, _very _close."

"Then…what?"

"Well…I wanted thugs who would be _proper _criminals…but less superior than me, because _I_…am the highest class of a criminal, aren't I?"

"You're a criminal who kills crime bosses, for crying out loud," I giggled.

He nodded, reassuringly, and I nodded in return.

"I can see in those little eyes of yours there's that _dangerous _determination," he continued, his face now so close to touching mine. "I'm not stupid. I _know _what you and Chase argue about now. It's about how pathetic he's become since you two parted ways and, not being _personal _here, darling, but…but how it was _his _fault the relationship ended and he goes on and on about how pathetic he really is."

"Well, sort of–"

"Don't try and _insult _my _intelligence_, because, I'll show you, PJ, that he _is _pathetic. Not the right man for _you_. If we wanted to rob a little bank, he'd chicken out of it straight away. I was thinking, while the guys and I are going to go on our little spree of murders, you know, like every other day, to collect Gordon's victims, heh, I was going to let _you_ go out and have your freedom, and feeding you more of your revenge that you crave. But then I had a second thought on the way here, why don't you take Chase with you?"

"Are you serious?"

"Use that manipulative little mind of yours to make sure he does at least _one _killing out there tomorrow."

"How…how am I going to do that?"

"Aw, are we a bit _nervous_?"

"No!"

He then yanked me to him, spinning me around and grabbing me around the back. The gun was placed to my head, and he spoke softly into my ear.

"You're a very smart girl, remember?" he growled. "You got it from _me_. Look what you've done so far. Killed people you were once close to. Murdered a _baby_...recorded me torturing that girl. You even tortured a little boy, brutally, yourself. You can be a _very _troublesome teenager, can't you? A very crazy lady indeed. _Think_. Just think. You don't have to be truthful about it? But do something that will make Chase be a _man_…and realise…the only sensible way to live–"

"Is to fight for what's right," I finished.

The Joker then made me shudder with his low chuckle.

"Now _that's _my Jane," he snarled.

"But…but Joker?"

"What?"

"How is this going to help _me_?"

"Because if you help him become like _you_…Jane I mean…then guide him into his _own _tinsy bit of madness…because he must have _madness _in him somewhere…because everyone in this world does, PJ."

"So you _do _want me to break him?"

"Just think about that trigger I talked about in the mind…"

"Mmm-hmm…"

"Once he's become a little bit more of an acceptable criminal…he'll eventually grow into the skin of it…you'll barely recognise him as the actual Chase."

"How can you be so sure this is going to work?"

"Because _you _know him better than anyone. Only _you _can think of the right ways to make his mind see the light…"

"So…when you let us loose later…you want me to get him to kill one person…and you'll be satisfied?"

"All it takes is one little killing. Trust me."

"But how will you know when he's killed? How…?"

"You ask too many questions, princess. Take a cell phone, and meet us once it's done. Call me when you're ready, or if you need anything at all. Any important assistance. We'll see just how much of criminal he _really _is. How much he _really _wants to spare his life. I can't have you corrupted by him any longer. I'm doing this _fairly_, keeping _you _happy by letting him live, but he fails…or, really, if _you _fail…you know what will happen, don't you, my lady?"

"You'll kill me."

"Mm-hmm. So are we all clear, then?"

"Perfectly," I answered, determinedly.

He released me, harshly, before walking over to the door and opening it wide for me.

"Everything will be grand," he said. "You _won't_ question anymore of it, you hear?"

"Of course I won't. I know what I'm doing."

I walked to go out of the door, but he stopped me by gripping onto my wrist until he felt like he was going to dislocate it. However, my expression remained blank.

"And are you pleased?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you feel anything right now?"

"In my head?"

"At all?"

"No."

He stumbled me closer to him, where he pinched my cheek.

"There's a good thug. Now, go tell lover boy, will you? And if he simply refuses, you'll let me know, won't you?"

"Uh…absolutely."

"And don't be a coward. You know how I feel about cowards."

"I won't be. My mind's racing."

"If I do end up killing that boy, he'll show you everything you need to know in his last moments. Now, go."

"When do we start?"

"Ah, a keen spirit, are we?" I nodded, enthusiastically. "Whenever you're ready, little one. Just make sure you take Harley's phone, and whatever weapons you need. Go on."

We smirked the same way, before I scooted off up the stairs.

It was so annoying how The Joker made my adrenaline come back in an instant, but also frighteningly amazing.

As I made my way through the corridors, I thought long and hard about my task. There was no way in hell I was going to fail, because The Joker was right. It _would _help me if Chase started to get into crime, because then he wouldn't argue with me about it. He'd see the purpose behind crime that he'd never seen. The less arguments, the less Shaylee came out and said hello.

Although, I guess I missed Shaylee a little bit. Only some parts of Shaylee that had left my system I squandered upon. Like the artistic Shaylee, the girlfriend Shaylee, and of course the smoker Shaylee. Yeah, I'd given up smoking a year before, which was phenomenal for me, since I was going through depression at that time, but I was determined to stop it to at least help my schizophrenia in _some _way.

You all probably are a little confused as to what's happening, right? Don't worry, I was still a little confused myself. I mean, it all went so quickly. I still didn't understand what I was frustrated about. The fact that Chase distracted me form what? Being a serial killer? No. It wasn't really that.

To put it in a nutshell: Chase reminded me of the past. Too much. Like Joker said, I could no longer think about the past. It was all about what was happening now. What I need to do to achieve my goals _now_. My past was my past, and I was killing the people from my past to get rid of it all together, so I could think ahead into the future, which I was fanatically determined to do, with my mind guiding me, telling me it was the right thing. And you know what my mind is like. It's abnormal. It's beyond horrific.

Now that I was seeing the world for what it really is, since I became Princess Jane, therefore, I was seeing myself for who I _really _was. I was nothing but a mental, distressed, violent human being, and that's how the world saw me. It couldn't change. After being raped, and my sympathy for the majority of human life being demolished in my head, that was it. My sane mind had been completely slaughtered, destroying every last inch of morality I had in me.

At least, not _quite _every inch, because Chase still made me care, and I _did _care about him. That's why I despised it.

I told Chase all of this when I eventually found him in one of the hotel bedrooms. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling in complete wonder, as I sat on the floor, and went through every detail of the torture in my mind, specifically what it had put me through recently. From when I lost my mind when I stabbed Alex, until that moment, I went into every detail of what my mind had been through. I told him he would never understand, because he wouldn't.

Forget torturing children, the torture in my _mind _was far worse. It's the worst thing anyone could ever go through, especially when you have it so young. Yet, at the same time, it was sort of a part of who I was, who _Princess Jane Price _was. So I couldn't just try and get rid of it, could I?

You can think I'm insane, but I'm not. I'm really not.

I wasn't sure if Chase was listening or not, because he just gazed at the roof, blankly, with one arm behind his head. It was like his eyes didn't blink for the whole time. He was obviously still flat out from jugging a whole bottle of vodka. He looked so beautiful.

"It's just hard, Chase," I said, monotone, coming to the end of my grand speech. "It's hard when…you try to control it…and you just can't."

I paused for a very long while, and Chase still uttered not a single word.

_Chase is hurdling towards his own sorry death_, a voice came, so suddenly, it actually made me jump.

I ignored it by scrunching my eyes closed until it vanished into thick air, and then I looked back at the motionless Chase.

"Chase?" I broke the silence. Come on, Jane. _Don't _get all soft around him. "Chase, listen to me!" I shouted, with a strike of determination firing up my voice.

"I am," he finally groaned. "I've listened to you for the past ten minutes."

"Don't you _wanna _know what we've assigned to do while they're all out on a killing spree?"

"Not particularly."

"Chase, do you _want _to die?"

I smirked when my voice came out with just a tinge of madness to it. It meant I was succeeding a little, now a fire bolt of determination had helped me come through.

"Course I don't," Chase answered.

"When then, you better listen."

I explained what our task, full of enthusiasm. It was all it took to get Chase have some life into him. By the time I had finished, he was leaning over the edge of the bed, and was now spitting in my face, but my face remained unreadable, exactly like The Joker's had been.

"You honestly think you're going to get me to _kill _someone?!" he bellowed.

"Don't worry, Chase, I'll help you," I breathed. "It's hard at first but–"

"No! You'll never make me do it!"

"Oh, yes I will. For the sake of _both _our lives, Chase, you better do it. Do you really think I want to get killed over this? You think I want _you _to get killed over this?"

"But…I _can't_…"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm no scumbag! I would never kill _anyone _for the hell of it!"

I swear a small fanfare started playing in the back of my brain with that comment.

"So you're saying you _would _kill someone if there was a _reason _behind it?" I gasped.

"Of course not."

"Yeah! _That's _it! We need to go find someone you _hate_ and _then _it'll work! Because let's face it, it's much better killing someone you hate than someone you like. Or just getting rid of someone worthless."

"I guess…"

"See?! You _do_ get it!"

The subject of killing was finally making Jane come through in Chase's presence. The Joker had figured it all out in a matter of minutes. He'd mastered it, cracked the code. He'd managed to break another part of me.

"But there _is _no one so you can forget it!" Chase retorted.

"Of course there's someone. There must be _someone_. Let me think…"

I immediately went to a list of your former friends. Jason: Dead. Alex: Dead. Tom: Dead. Chris…Matty…

"Just drop it, there's no one," Chase argued. "I'm not killing and becoming a scumbag criminal like my dad is!"

"Didn't you fall out with Chris?" I asked, suddenly.

"What?"

"Didn't you have a fall out with Chris?"

"Chris who?"

"You know, _our _Chris. Hernandez. The black guy we went to school with?"

"We had a little argument ages ago but we haven't seen each other in ages…"

"What did you argue about?"

"Oh just some shit about he was spreading gossip about me…"

"What kind of gossip?"

"Well, how am I supposed to remember?"

"But that's mean of him!"

"Yeah, well, it's not like I _hate _him though…"

I recalled Chris's arrogance quickly. He was a decent guy, and we got on great, but he was a cocky little bastard. He was always close with Jason, but maybe he didn't know of his death?

The manipulation wheels in my head started spinning faster and faster and faster until I was thinking too much.

"Ahh!" I squealed in hindrance.

"What?!" Chase cried.

"Oh…nothing, I'm…I'm fine…" I suddenly beamed up at him, cheerfully.

"Look, I'm doing it, end of," he grunted, like a spoiled child, turning around on his side to face away from me. "If the clown lunatic has to kill, then let the sick freak kill me. It's not like there's any point of living anyway."

"What about your mom?" A painful silence followed as Chase's mouth remained buttoned up. "Look, I'm not gonna let either of us get killed because we're showing weakness. You're gonna do it, Chase, I swear to you. Trust me…please, I…"

I grunted under my breath, I'd broken character _again_. I then turned away from Chase and lowered my gruff voice, after listening to the whispers:

_Find the key_, it said. _You're doing this for your life, Jane. Nothing else. You **can't **let your own father kill you over some boy you once dated. Make him kill. Kill, kill, kill…_

"Chris…" I whispered. "Where will he be in the morning?"

I thought carefully, thinking too hard would trigger even more noises, as there was a slight thumping noise in my head already.

They were still saying…._Kill, kill, kill_….

I then raised my voice, accidentally.

"I bet you five dollars, Chase, Chris will be in a bar in the morning, drinking his life away. That's all he ever seemed to do since I saw him last."

* * *

_**Joker torturing Gordon's daughter was a reference to The Killing Joke, if people didn't know. Who knows? Maybe that girl did grow up to be Batgirl. But obviously I couldn't call her Barbara, because that's the name of his wife in the Nolanverse. **_

_**Oh yeah, please leave reviews, thanks ;)**_


	22. Just Popping Out To Kill

**_I hope you like the few twists coming up._**

**_Thanks to all the favs and followers, and the feedback! :)_**

* * *

**Chapter 21 - Just Popping Out To Kill**

Chase owed me five dollars.

Chris _was _in a bar the following morning.

It turns out I didn't get an ounce of sleep that night before, however. Chase snoring didn't exactly help (and he fell asleep within minutes flat because he was drunk), but my mind was on a constant whirl of manipulation and ideas. Plus, the voices were on nonstop and sent me into madness. Of course, I had to try and sleep on the floor because there's was no way I was getting into the bed with Chase. It would remind me of the past too much.

Once we awoke, I snuck downstairs and grabbed Harley's cell phone and collected two guns from Harley (who had James's left over) while I was down there. I then asked Chase, rather nicely, to ring Chris's number, as I was convinced he knew it by heart. Well, I knew his number by heart, but it'd be suspicious if _I _rung Chris's number, wouldn't it? It took a while, because, naturally, Chase started a hungover protest once again.

"We're only going to ask to hang out for a while," I said, sweetly, watching Chase flop out of the bed and begin to out his shoes back on.

"Yeah, of course we are," he muttered, dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, we haven't seen him in _ages_!" I giggled.

"I know what you're planning to do, Shaylee, and don't you think for one minute I'm going to follow it."

I sighed in an over-exaggerated fashion, while smirking at Chase as he now faced, me, ruffling his hair. He scooted over to the window and flopped his hands on the ledge. His head drooped down to his feet, looking like he was about throw up all over his shoes.

"What do you think I _am _planning, then, Chase?" I asked, curiously.

"I know you're going to try and get me to kill him," he answered. "And I know you're trying to think of a _reason _for me to kill him, but you know for a fact there isn't one."

"Oh, you don't know _half _of it," I made up.

"Yeah, sure," he sighed. He groaned loudly. "I just want to go home…" he suddenly murmured. "I just want to go fucking home. I can't bare this anymore."

"If you do it then maybe The Joker will let you free," I suggested.

"Don't be stupid."

"So you're not gonna get your way, _either _way, are you, Chase?"

"Not really."

"So ring 'im," I said, displaying the cell phone. He finally glanced over to me, once again bearing his pleading eyes.

Chase's eyes were the most beautiful part of him that I remember. The fact they were green just made him look more gorgeous, and unusual.

"No," he said, softly.

His words sounded like they had a dagger ripping through them.

"Do you want to die?" I asked him, sternly. He didn't answer, instead just kept on sighing and muttering inaudible words. "Chase!" I snapped. He looked up. "Do…you…want…to…die?" I questioned again.

"I don't know," he whispered.

"You don't know?" Chase just nodded. "Chase, are you depressed?" He didn't answer. "Because you know if you _are_, drinking heavily until you purposely pass out is _not _the right way to go."

"I'm _not _depressed…" he declared.

"You look exactly how I did when _I _was…" I said, softly.

Suddenly, a war broke out in my head, so unexpectedly, it nearly made me leap out of my own skin.

_Get back into your cage, Shaylee. Stop coming back and let Jane corrupt him! That's her __**duty**__!_

_It's not my fault Chase makes me feel this way! He brings out me again, I can't stop it!_

_Get rid of Chase then!_

_No!_

_Chase is holding out back from doing what's right!_

"No…" I grunted, clinging onto my head and clawing my fading crimson hair, which made my palms wet with grease.

"Shay? Shay, are you alright?!" Chase cried.

I coughed irritably, shaking my head to fizzle them away in the blackness of my mental head.

"I'm _fine_!" I said, joyfully. I then sighed, deeply, as I glanced down at the phone in my gloved hand. Unable to keep the control over myself, I started swinging my feet, while glancing around the room and up at my head. My mind was attempting to get me into character again. It was like method acting. It was very peculiar. "Well…" I sighed, "I guess you know how I felt all that time ago _now_, right?" I smirked up at him again. "So…am _I _going to have to ring Chris, then?" I taunted. "If you won't?"

"No!" Chase suddenly leaped up into my face. "Please, don't…"

"You honestly think I'm going to take your side?"

I threateningly flipped the phone open in front of his face, still grinning wide.

"Please, Shay…you're _not _going to make me kill him! There's no reason for him to be killed, he's an innocent guy and he hasn't done _anything _to me. This is _so _ridiculous and _heartless_. But don't you think that I'm going to kill _anyone _for the sake of just being in The Joker's gang! You're only _doing _this to impress him and follow his orders."

"I'm gonna even answer that," I breathed, sounding beastly. "I explained everything to you last night. Arguing with you is not the right thing to do. I have to follow orders. I have to believe what's _right_. Because what I'm doing…_is right_!"

"What _is _the reason for me doing this, anyway, Shaylee?" I ignorantly ignored him because he wasn't addressing me, correctly. I began to dial what I believed to be Chris's number, in front of Chase. "P-Please…" Chase begged, even grabbing hold of my free hand. "Please, don't…you _can't _make me…"

"I'm doing this for both of our lives, nothing more," I said, monotone.

The number was dialled.

"Please, Shaylee…"

I pressed the call key and put the phone to my ear. Chase was now blubbering, tears beginning to fall. I felt him squeeze my hand, pleadingly, but even that wasn't enough. Very weak, he tried to grab the phone away from my ear.

That was all it took for me to react. Once someone tried to go for me that was it. I exploded, without warning, but not necessarily out of anger. In this case, it was adrenaline.

_Fight_.

With a mischievous giggle, Chase was soon writhing below me on the floor. The hand he had been holding I'd sharply flinched away from, and I'd given him an all-too-familiar slap around his cheek. With him struggling below me, I quickly sprinted out of the room, and locked him inside, as for some brilliantly convenient reason, the bedroom doors had outside locks.

I waited and waited for the phone to be picked up.

Chase didn't make sense sometimes. He wanted me to try and control my schizophrenic mind, yet he only made it worse. Particularly then, when he started wailing and crashing onto the door, bawling out Shaylee's name.

It suddenly became so easy to ignore him. I guess it was because the determination in me was so fiery. The slimy fusion of adrenaline, anger, frustration, determination, concentration and excitement is simply too much for the human brain. I had all of those churning through every inch of me at that moment, but most of it was mixing up inside my brain, and it was too much for it. This had been happening constantly recently. No wonder my schizophrenia was out of control. No wonder my mind was becoming more messed up.

My breath quickened as the phone was not answered for a long while.

That was, until I heard very blurred music pumping down my ear, and the other end of the phone whirling around until the music vanished.

"Hey, who's this?" a voice finally came.

"Uhh…hey," I giggled. "Chris? Is that Chris?"

"This is his friend, Matty, just answering his phone for him because he's playing pool. So who is it?"

I knew I should have been worried at that moment, but I found an even larger grin appeared on my face.

"It's Jane." I slapped my hand over my mouth.

"Who?"

"It's…" I groaned on the inside. "It's Shaylee."

"_No_…is it really?"

"Well, yeah."

"Oh wow, Shay, how are you?" Matty asked, brightly.

"I'm…I'm wonderful. Thank you."

"What's that banging in the background?"

I immediately shot my feet down to the end of the corridor, so Chase's banging became non-existent.

"_Nothing_!" I beamed.

"Why are you ringing anyway?" Matty asked.

"I wanted to talk to Chris."

"Well…he told me that you told _him_ ages ago you wanted nothing more to do with him."

"Yeah, but, like you said, that was _ages _ago. I was just wondering…you know...if we could get back into contact again, because I…realised how much of _bitch _I was to you all." I giggled. "If Chris wants that?"

"I don't know, Shaylee…"

"Matty, you're a nice guy, right? Surely _you_ can forgive me for how much of a _bitch _I was to you all. You know about the whole situation with my dad and that–"

"Did you ever find him? Or was everyone right? Did he…did he die?"

I took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately, yes. You were right. He _is _dead, but…not quite."

"What do mean 'not quite'?"

"Well…he still lives…sort of…in my _heart_…I mean…"

"Aw, Shay, I'm really sorry…"

"No don't be. I don't want anyone's sympathy. Not anymore."

"So I guess you haven't coped well since?"

"Of course I haven't. I've been through _so much_…_so much _you wouldn't even know, Matty. Oh, you wouldn't know…"

"I'm sorry I didn't try and help you."

"Yeah, that's right. Apologise now, after two years. I thought you were all supposed to be my friends, but…_none _of you have bothered to get back in touch with me and see how I am after all this time. In a dramatic sense, you all _broke _me. Broke my heart, broke my mind in every way. But that's _all _in the past now. So…_I'm _the one making the effort to see you all again now. One…by one. So, how _is _Chris, then?"

"Uhh…he's…he's feeling like shit, to be honest."

"Aw, how come?"

I made my voice sound overly-sympathetic. It was fun to fool Matty. He was always the most stupid and annoying out of all my ex friends, but despite that, he was always the most innocent, the nicest guy, even inviting me to his birthday party, if you remember. Well, that's what I thought until he refused to help me and never got back into touch with me two years before, like the _rest _of them.

"Didn't you _hear_ about Jason, Tom and Alex?" Matty inquired.

"Oh." It had totally slipped my mind it would have broadcasted everywhere. "Oh, yes. Oh, shit…"

"Yeah…that psycho Princess Jane girl murdered them while they were hanging out on Knight Road a few nights ago."

"I know. I…I _heard_."

"It's been so horrible, I mean…why did she _do _that? Just murder three innocent boys on the street?"

"She's, uh…she's _not _in the right state of mind, though, is she, Matty?"

"Well, quite clearly, but…she's so _young_. Surely someone as young as us can't be _that _mentally insane, like that Joker. I don't understand it. I don't get why she would just…"

"Didn't it say on the news the reasons behind the attack?"

"No, not really. They just said she shot the three of them, right before she was sent to Arkham Asylum. It was on the news this morning that apparently she's escaped again, but they reported it was a trick set by that Joker maniac for Commissioner Gordon to get her out. They said the reasons she gave for killing Jason, Tom and Alex were personal reasons but I don't believe that. I just think she's a psycho, to be honest."

"Oh really?" I felt my veins start to throb with anger.

"Well, don't _you_ think that?"

"No. She's just in a lot of mental distress."

"You can say that again."

"Matty…where _are _you, exactly?"

"Well, we decided to move away from the chaos in the big City area and come down to Funky Fred's on the far side of the City. My parents rented a house here to stay away from the mass murders, and Chris is living with me at the moment until we get a house in Gotham Town. We're at Funky Fred's now."

"Is that a bar?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm…" I chuckled, under my breath. "Matty, don't you think it's dangerous to be hanging out somewhere like that when all this is happening in the City?"

"The Joker hasn't been anywhere near this quiet part of the City. It's better being a little safe here and avoiding being killed in the big part of the City."

"But, uh…what about this Princess Jane girl? You don't know where _she_ could be, do you? If she's anything like The Joker, then–"

"She'll be with The Joker. They said on the news she's back with him, working with him, and I'm guessing they're in the big, chaotic area. We're safer here."

"Where is this quiet part?"

"It's like a little secluded area, with loads of abandoned buildings and–"

"Wait…_abandoned buildings_?"

"Yeah…it's like quite far away from the Centre. About a twenty minute drive. Do you know where I mean?"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing so loud it echoed in the hallway.

"Oh, Matty, I think I _do _know where you mean!" I cried. "Is it all dark and gothic and the weather is symbolically cloudy?"

"Uhh…yeah. Yeah, it is, actually."

"So, this Funky Fred's bar…I'm guessing it's quite quiet at this time of the day?"

"Well, there's quite a few people here, but–"

"What's the street called?"

"I don't know, but it's on a little street, just down some stairs that lead to this tiny street of shops. It's like it's a completely different City. It's like it's not even part of Gotham, it looks like it belongs to Gotham Town. It's really weird. My dad said he don't know why we _haven't_ lived here all our lives."

"Sounds like it's the perfect place to go for a criminal getaway…is it just you and Chris out?"

"Yeah, but he's–"

"I _know _he's playing pool right now, but ask him if he would like it if Chase and I paid you two a little visit. You know, we can have a nice little reunion. A catch-up."

"You and Chase? I thought you broke up?"

"We're on good terms."

"Oh. Oh, well, it seems like a nice idea, but…didn't Chase and Chris have an argument?"

"I'm sure, uh…they can put the past _behind _them for the sake of _humanity_. I believe, that coincidentally, we're hanging out in this area you're talking about now. Does it sound like a plan to you?"

"Well, I _guess _I could ask Chris…"

"That would be _amazing_!"

"Okay, Shaylee, just wait a minute then."

So that's what I did. Although, it was longer than a minute. I felt like I was waiting a fucking eternity. I couldn't hear Chase pounding on the door anymore, so I presumed I'd just left him to cry on the floor.

This was too good to be true.

It was even better when I devised a brilliant plan on the spot right there, to somehow get around Chase possibly killing Chris that bar, and if he didn't kill him, then still convince The Joker that he did.

I'm not even going to try and describe the plot now. Instead, I'm just going to tell the story, because this is _my _story.

After a while, Matty came back on the phone, panting slightly.

"Well?" I said.

"Chris said he'd love to," Matty replied.

I grinned as wide as a half-moon.

"Really?" I sighed. "That's so lovely. Shall we see you in a bit, then?"

"Yeah, come for a nice catch-up," Matty said, cheerfully. "It'll be weird seeing you again though."

"Yeah…it _will_ be."

"Well, how bad can it be? Okay, we'll see you in a bit, then?"

"Yeah, see you soon, Matty."

"Bye, now."

"By-eee!"

I flipped the phone down to end the call. I could not believe my coincidental luck.

I carried my legs back to the room, where Chase fell backwards onto his back, when I unlocked the door, as he had obviously been leaning up against it by his back. He groaned a little, before starting to escape another puppy-like whimper from his mouth again.

"Chase, come _on_, get up!" I ordered. "We have somewhere we need to go."

If we were outside in the chilling winter, Chase's breath would have danced in the frosty air. It would have been going nonstop, with how much he was panting.

"What…what do mean?" he asked, his voice becoming wobbly with concern. He struggled to his knees and looked up at me.

"Go in there and get the guns," I instructed. "Looks like Chris's location isn't as far as I thought. He, and Matty, believe it or not, are in Funky Fred's Bar, and from what he described to me, it seems like it's in this abandoned part of the City."

"I'm not going," he panted.

"Chase, get up." He did so, and looked down on me with his watery eyes. "You have to trust me. If you want your life spared, you _have_ to trust me. You may not want to, but you have to. You got it? Both of our lives are in my hands, here, and I don't want them to be snatched away by my own father. You understand?"

"Give me one good reason why I should go down to that bar, and kill my friend," he demanded.

I stared at him for a long while. I thought carefully about Chris's character, and how much he was a ladies' man when we used to hang around together. He'd had a few girlfriends, that I had never met, but he seemed to always fuck them off and move onto the next one. He always went on about girls and what he would want to do to them.

I thought about our argument we'd had the previous night, how we'd talked about cheating. Now, let me get this straight, I never _ever _cheated on Chase when we were together, and I'm truthful about that. Chase would be beyond devastated if I ever did sleep with someone else. There was no point, anyway, because he was so good in bed, I didn't _need _to sleep with anyone else.

Cheating. Hmm, _that's _something. The manipulative part of my mind started nibbling away, triggering a ton of voices.

Chase was still looking me, wanting an answer.

I grinned at him, cunningly.

"Infidelity," I simply said.

Chase's eyes widened so much, I thought they might explode.

"Wha…what?" he spluttered out. "What do you mean?"

"What I said…"

"You mean…_no_…you're _lying_!"

"I never cheated on you with Chris."

"What, with someone _else_?!"

"No."

"Then…then what are you _talking _about?!"

"You remember say…you're sixteenth birthday party? Chris comes up to me in your hallway. He says to me, 'I know you have a crush on Chase, I just _know _it.' I said, 'It doesn't have anything to do with you.' He said, 'Well, I gotta tell you something.' I said, 'What?' He said, 'Chase won't mind me saying this, because he's my _best friend_, but…I really, really like you Shaylee. I do. I think you're so amazing. I can give you so much.' I told him to fuck off, but he kept _pleading _and _pleading _for me to understand. Then, you'll never guess what he did! He squeezed my ass cheek, and then tried to get me to kiss him! I pulled away, Chase, before he could touch me, but I thought he wouldn't do it again because, he was supposed to be your _friend _after all! But no, a few months later, when we actually get together, he tried it on with me _again_. And if I remember rightly, he did another time again after that."

Chase was almost pokerfaced, but he showed just a slight sense of hurt through his beautiful green eyes.

"You…you _have _to be lying," he said.

"I'm not lying."

"Then…then why didn't you tell me this a long time ago?"

"I…I didn't know _how _to tell you, really."

"So he tried to sleep with you?"

"Yes. Yes he did. But I swear, Chase, I never did. I told him to piss off every time, but he kept coming back. He was actually _with _someone one time he did it."

"Are you serious?"

"Would I really lie to you, Chase?"

"Maybe you _are _making this up."

"I most certainly am _not_," I insisted, sharply.

"So if I asked him, he'd say he did?"

"Well, he'd hopelessly deny it, wouldn't he?"

"Well maybe you _are _a liar."

"I'm _no _liar!"

Chase sighed, and one of his tears shattered to the floor.

"So…so he _did _try to…to sleep with you?" he asked, shakily, fidgeting his feet on the carpet again.

"Yes, Chase, yes he did."

"But…he knew damn well you were with _me_."

"Yes…"

"And…but…why would he do that? He wouldn't do that to me."

"Chase, _no one _in this world is innocent. If there's anything I've learnt in my life, it's that you can only trust a handful of people in the entire world. The only person I trust is The Joker. Chris was never an innocent guy, you'd agree with me if I said he was a player, wouldn't you?"

"Well…yeah…he was, really. He was."

"So that only proves me right further."

"But…I just don't know why you wouldn't tell me sooner."

"It don't matter. I've told you now. Shall we go and confront Chris about these little incidents, then? Or are you going to let it haunt you forever? Because if I were you, I'd kick his nuts in."

"I'll do more than that if it _is _the truth."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, if he _did _try it on with you when we were together, I'll beat the shit out of him."

"You could go even further."

"No."

"Trust me, the more mad you get, especially with a gun in your hand, the more eager you are to do it. Now, shall we get a move on?"

"But…what if you _are _lying?"

"I'm not. I'm serious. I'm _deadly _serious, and knowing Chris, he'll deny it. But don't let that put you off, because I'm not lying, Chase, and I know I'm not. He's an asshole for how he's treated you."

"I just…I can't _believe_…what a…"

"Chase. We need to go. Get the guns from in there."

"Shaylee…"

"_Now_!"

I yelled so loudly and commandingly that Chase shot into the room and did as he was told. I hit him to make sure he wouldn't utter another word. He gave me one of the guns, and, making sure the cell phone was tucked in my skirt pocket, Chase and I headed out of the hotel, and out into the scorching hot July's day.

I practically pulled Chase around by his collar to follow me around, as all he did was whimper and moan at me, constantly asking me about Chris, but I had none of it.

We eventually discovered a cab rank, where I threatened the driver to drive us to the bar, and he did, but I shot the bullet through his head straight after we arrived. The bar was very small, with two floors, as I saw a glad balcony, which was deserted at that moment, with a few shops lined beside the building. I saw in the window of one of them that alcohol was on sale, and I smirked up at Chase as we walked towards it.

"Ooh, goodie, Chase, you can buy some booze!" I jeered.

"Fuck off," he grumbled.

"Lighten up! Come on, let's go get some."

When he refused, I slapped him once more, and forcefully pushed him inside with my gun. Like it was on cue, all the customers in there instantly flicked their hands up in mercy.

"I…I'm not here to hurt any of you…" Chase began.

"Oh, just get some alcohol, Chase," I snapped.

"I haven't got any money."

I groaned in fiery frustration and jolted my gun towards the shopkeeper.

"Can of whiskey, now!" I shouted. "For my boyfriend."

"I'm not your boyfriend."

"Whatever." I then spotted a tiny lollipop on the counter, and beamed happily, like I was four years old. "Ooh, nice!" I laughed. "I'll take this as well, if you don't mind." The shopkeeper just trembled and nodded, quickly. "Well? Alcohol?" I commanded. He very slowly put it on the counter before me. "Thanks, old man!" I squealed. "Oh and I'm not paying." I picked it up with my free hand and gave it to Chase, next to me. "Let's go."

Chase had no choice but to follow me out of the shop. He even started to crack open the can, and he took a small swig of it, while we now stood before Funky Fred's.

"How did you _do _that?" Chase asked, astonished.

"Do what?"

"Just manage to steal something like it's nothing?"

"Been doing it for years, Chase, it's natural. Now. Here we are. Chris is right inside. Go in and confront him about how much of a shit friend he was."

"I can't."

"Do it, or I tell The Joker, and he kills you, okay?!"

Chase sighed, and took another sip of the drink.

"What…what are _you _gonna do?" he asked, nervously.

"Hmm." I examined the building with beady eyes, and spotted several stairs trailing up the right side of the building, presumably to a door at the top. My eyebrows pricked up when I thought of the possibility of it being a security room, where they check the security cameras. "Up there," I answered Chase, finally. "I'll go up there."

"But…but…"

"But what?"

"I…I can't go and there and find out it's all true. It's going to hurt too much."

"Oh, just do it and get it done with, Chase. Chris and Matty will be waiting inside, go in."

He didn't get the chance to reply because I shot off towards the stairs, carefully carrying my gun. I cautiously went up them in my high heels, but when I looked down, I saw Chase was still standing there like a lemon. I ushered him to go inside, by waving my arms, but he still wouldn't move. Finally, I had no choice, but to load my gun, and dart it towards him. He jumped a mile, and steadily, started heading towards the door.

I groaned in impatience and eventually reached the top. I tried to open the heavy, steel door, but it was locked. I groaned even louder, and started banging on it, until my fists were vibrating and almost spewing blood, the unwrapped lolly becoming mucky. I eventually heard it being unlocked, and I prepared myself by clutching onto the gun.

The door opened, and a middle-aged man stood before me. He escaped a strangled gasp when he saw me, but, like a total idiot, didn't react any further.

"Hey, sexy," I chuckled. "Just thought I'd pop in for a pint."

I leaped it into his chest and pulled the trigger, so his life ended by falling backwards into the room, with his feet flopping out into the daylight. It was a shame I didn't have a knife to carve my signature shoulder scar into him, but I guess you can't win every time.

I stepped over him and into the room, where I was proud to know I discover I was right. It _was _a security room. There were about five screens on a large table, all showing different angels of the bar, in static black and white visions. I took a seat at the turning, adjustable chair, and got myself completely comfortable, even putting my legs up on the table.

I gazed at the screens before me, suckling on my lollipop like an innocent little girl, and I put my gun down next to the chair. My eyes were drawn to a screen, which clearly showed me a section next to the bar. I smirked widely when I saw Chase on the screen, up in a black boy's face. The screens were soundless, but I could tell Chase was yelling at Chris, just by the look of sheer displeasure on his face. The few people I saw gathered around them were staring at them in wonder, no one even attempting to restrain either of them away. Chris looked completely baffled, which just made it more amusing to me. Chase was looking desperate, and although I didn't know what he was saying, I knew he was bashing Chris with unanswerable questions, because I _had _lied about Chris trying to sleep with me, but I knew in my right mind Chase would fall for that one. I knew he still cared about me too much to try and get to the bottom of an untrue situation. I wasn't stupid, you know. I was taking this all my stride, the plan I had devised before was still intact, but again, you'll have to keep reading to find out what I was planning to do to get around this seemingly impossible task.

Suddenly, a genius thought rocketed into my mind. I remember The Joker telling me to get into contact with me if I needed him. I didn't exactly _need _his help at that moment, but I still wanted to grasp any opportunity to see him at his work. It twistingly inspired me, it just made my adrenaline stronger, and boy, was I going to need it that day.

My thought was, this whole bar was the perfect place to take control of, to collect helpless little hostages. Hell, The Joker could even get a drink if he wanted if he took loads of people at this small bar. Plus, as a bonus, he could see Chase's victim for real, that is, if he _was _going to have a victim, but I was going to make sure of that.

And so, still keeping a watchful eye on the screens in front of me, I dug into my skirt pocket and found The Joker's number in Harley's spare cell phone.

"Harley, what is it?!" his chilling voice answered.

"Daddy, it's...it's me," I said, sweetly. "It's Jane. Little Princess Jane calling."

"Ah, nice to see you followed what I said," he replied. "So you got Harley's cell phone, huh?"

"Uh-huh, her spare one. I think she has two, for some reason. Anyway, you said to call if I needed you, right?"

"Most certainly."

I kept my eyes closely traced on the screen, watching Chase verbally batter Chris, and smirking at Chris's dumfounded expression.

"Where are you right now, father?" I asked, sucking more of my lollipop.

"Currently at Cicero, daughter," he answered, in his baritone clown voice. I smiled at being called that again. "My idiot men are trying to collect some hostages from this, uh, this...building that looks kinda important. I'm currently standing around the back, with, ah…a bunch of-uh...corpses. Victims."

"Do they look pretty?"

"Of course. They're smiling."

I chuckled heartily. "Have you had any luck collecting hostages, by any chance?" I inquired.

"We may have some soon." I heard him lick his lips. "Have you had any luck, yourself and lover boy? With your task."

"We found a target. In a cutsie little bar not far from the hotel we were in. Chase believes a guy in here is responsible for trying it on with me a while ago. He's very angry. I'm watching their argument in the security camera room as we speak."

"And why does Prince Charming believe _this_, hmm?"

"Because I told him so."

The Joker spluttered into crafty sniggers.

"You manipulative little imp," he snickered.

"Well...I had to be, didn't I?" I sighed. "There's was no other way I was going to even get him to have the balls to at least _try_ and take sweet revenge on somebody. What a coincidence this guy happened to be in here, huh?"

I escaped screechy high-pitched laughter.

"Indeed, Princess Jane. So what is your crafty little reason for ringing me then, huh, beautiful? Because I know there is one."

"Well...I was thinking...all _morning_, actually, that if you were looking for a nice place to take innocent people hostage, then this is your place."

"How many people are there?"

"Ooh, uhh...from what this camera shows only, looks like a good thirty people."

"Hmm...carry on..."

"And uh...after Chase shoots this guy...the room is gonna go chaotic...so many are gonna run away and call the cops..."

"Go on."

"But I was thinking of showing myself and keeping them in order...but...I have no Harley with me...so..."

"You'd like me and my men to come down and take 'em all hostage. Huh? Why's that, sweetie? You scared you can't keep 'em all under your own control? Is _that _it?"

"Well, daddy, it just gives you a chance to get more hostages, is all I thought, while seeing for yourself the man Chase's killed with your own eyes."

"What's happening now?"

"They're still arguing."

"Hmm. Okay then, Jane. Listen to your orders. You hear? Because you, you clever girl, might have somethin' in the bag here."

"What...what do you mean?"

"You want Gotham to know you even _better_? You go in there, when the time is right, and witness the chaos for yourself. You'll be in control of that place, no one else. Oh and, uh...I'm sure your mind will tell ya the right people to kill. The people who are foolish. That's all I'll say. You're still in a test, Princess Jane. You pass it for your life."

"I know what you mean," I grinned.

"I'll gather the idiots, and with Mikey's driving we'll be there in a flash, because, Jane...I trust you're verdict that this is a nice little place for a capture. But uh...I must see Chase's victim dead when I'm there, and Chase himself must tell me the story of how he killed 'im, or I won't be convinced. You understand, your highness?"

"I understand."

"Good."

The line went off after that. A raging fire crackled my feet with a burning sensation that matched the one onside my mind, and I zoomed over to the narrow door, throwing my lollipop aside. With my gun firmly in my right hand, I leaped over the lifeless body of the operator and headed out of the door. I ran as fast as I could down a long flight of steep stairs, to where I finally heard the yells of Chase and Chris becoming clearer. I tiptoed through one last door, leading to the top of the balcony in the confined bar.

I leaned casually on the thick balcony, and glanced downwards to see everyone was absorbed with the argument taking place before them. Not as many became interested when one by one they looked up and noticed me, and either clung onto the person next to them, gasping in pure detest, or just remained staring, either completely puzzled or totally horrified. It wasn't long before Chris and Chase looked up too, at my grand entrance, like I was an epic movie villain.

That's when I noticed Chase had his gun pointed at Chris's face, but his gun was trembling like leaves in the fall. Despite this, I smiled.

I heard a person mutter, "Is that Princess Jane?"

This was the opportunity to be a total badass. I looked towards the clock on my left. It was just squeezing into the afternoon.

"Good afternoon, lovely citizens of Gotham," I declared, as if I was a country's president giving a speech. I started sauntering down the stairs, and a lot of people started backing away as they watched me come before them. "Well, isn't this a nice welcome? I come down the bar for a drink and I get _stared_ at, like I'm some sort of _outcast_. What's the matter, people? Is it the makeup? The outfit? The tiara?" By now I had reached the bottom of the stairs and I skidded my boots to a halt. "You know...I feel rather popular right now. By the looks on your ugly little faces, you know who I am, don't you?" I then finally looked at Chase, who once again flashed me his innocent, verdant eyes. "Oh, hi, Chase," I giggled.

Everyone, naturally, then darted their heads towards Chase and stared at him, including his gunpoint victim, Chris. Matty had now come into my view, who was behind Chris. Matty gave me a glare of realisation.

"H-Hi, Jane…" Chase mumbled, much to my astonishment.

I then gave a devious smirk to Chris and Matty, before escaping a shrill laugh that had been irritating the back of my throat for so long. Nobody said anything.

I took this opportunity to walk behind Chase bearing the quivering gun. My head snapped behind me when I heard a slight footstep break the stunned silence. I noticed a couple were trying to make their escape out of the door.

"Hey!" I barked, immediately darting my gun at them, and loading it, warningly. "I wouldn't go anywhere, if I was you." I then addressed everyone in the room, with my malicious mind guiding me every step. "If anyone in here tries to call the cops, I shoot you all, you understand?!"

Without a response to be heard, just mere nods of the heads, I looked back at my sweat-ridden ex-boyfriend, and smiled, almost pleasantly at him and his potential victim.

"I can't..." he mouthed.

"Seems I arrived at a dramatic moment anyway, huh?" I laughed. I leaned over Chase's shoulder. "Is _this_ the guy, Chase?" I questioned. "Hmm? Is this the little betrayer?"

"Jane..." he whispered, his voice crackling.

"What do you know anyway, you crazy chick?" Chris suddenly demanded.

"I know you haven't been a very good friend to Chase, here. I'm not _surprised_ he's angry at you."

"Wh-What?! How do _you_ know who we are?!"

"You must've drugged Chase to make him work with you!" Matty exclaimed.

I cackled, arrogantly, making the barman in the corner of my eye jump a mile.

"That is hilarious!" I squealed with giggles. "Chase don't work for _me_! However, I do _know_ him very well. And I know about you. I know what he believes about _you_, Chris!" I paused, hoping they'd finally get the grasp of who I really was, but their mouths continued fumbling, and came out with nothing but gasps and confused stutters. Matty was still gazing at me, curiously. I then leaned over to Chase's ear again. "Do you trust me?" I purred.

"J-Jane...I can't...I can't do it..." he whimpered.

I lowered my voice substantially. "I'm not saying you have to," I persisted. "But you have to trust me, okay? If you honestly can't find it in you, then I'll help you out, but only if it's really necessary."

"Are you forcing him to shoot someone?!" Matty cried.

"Quiet!" I shouted, bearing my gun towards him. "It's got nothing to do with _you_, has it? In fact..." I glanced over my shoulder. "You, go stand over there," I instructed. Matty idiotically didn't move. "_Now_!"

He instantly staggered over with the rest of the crowd, where he continued to stare at me, and I could see in his eyes he was beginning to realise my identity. The fire in my head fizzled and I launched myself at Chris, to a chorus of terrified gasps. I grabbed him around the neck, and because he was taller than me, I had to jab the gun into the side of his head and kick my high heel into the back on his leg, to make sure he wouldn't escape my grasp, which miraculously appeared to be growing stronger and stronger.

"Jane..." Chase gasped again. His tears appeared to be like a continuous waterfall of pleading tears.

"You better not think about moving _anywhere_," I murmured into Chris's face. "Got it?" He nodded, nervously. "Good." I looked back at Chase, with a hopeful grin. "Okay, Chase. Let's get this done with. Do it. Kill him."

"Hang on…" Chris cut in.

"Shut _up_!" I bellowed.

"No, hang on a minute," Chris dared to carry on. "I don't understand what's going on here!"

"You don't need to _understand_!" I yelled in my creepy child-like voice. "All you need to know is Chase is gaining his revenge on you for trying it on with the love of his life!"

"But I never–!"

"Ah, ah! _Don't _you _dare _start your little protest!" I zipped my head back up at the horrified crowd. "And none of you better leave!" I reminded them. "If you do, you _all _die. I'll _gladly _shoot you one at a time! So no one cost _all _of your lives!" I lowered my voice and proceeded with my assigned duty. "Yes, Chris, I _know _about it! Chase told me!"

"Actually, that's…that's a _lie_…" Chase interrupted. "_You _told _me_…"

"Either way, you _know_!" I shouted.

"But I _never _did that to him!" Chris cried. "You _know_ I would never do that to you, Chase!"

"Well, of course you're gonna deny it, aren't you?!" I snapped.

"Yes, I am, because it's the truth!"

"How can I believe you, though?" Chase wept. "Yeah, you were a good friend to me when we were in middle school, and even high school, but then you started spreading shit!"

"Oh come _on_, haven't you just had a heated argument about this?!" I groaned. "Just _do it_, Chase! Kill him! Think about everything he's _called _you! _I _did it! I got rid of the people who called _me _every name under the sun! The people who called me _crazy_! And don't you even _dare _laugh!"

Although I was practically strangling Chris around his neck, he managed to look up at me. I scowled at him, but his eyes were flaring with shock and realisation. Chase was giving him very small nods.

"Oh my god…" he whispered.

"What?!" I growled.

"You…you're…" he stammered.

"I'm Princess Jane Price, who _else _am I?!"

I was growing furiously impatient. I had to get Chris killed before The Joker arrived and _I _was killed myself.

I heard Matty utter the word Shaylee.

"Matty, don't…" Chase rightfully pleaded.

"She's _dead_!" I screamed at Matty, shooting my gun in his direction.

My head was pounding with gunshots. My parents' screams exploded through my brain again, the memories refusing to come back and haunt my sorry little ass. The voices were savagely arguing over what I should do, ordering me, but as always, Jane ultimately won this time. She spewed out of me in all her monstrosity. I knew I sounded totally insane in front of a crowd of people whose hearts were undoubtedly in their mouths at the sight of me ranting and raving like a twisted maniac, but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. Not anymore. My mind forbid me to care, until one single moment it decided to let me get emotional just to fuck me over even more. I couldn't stop. I just kept going. The insanity was increasing through my throbbing veins more and more each day and it wouldn't go away. It made me start to like it more than I should have in a civilised 'society.'

"You're Shaylee…" Chris choked in my grasp.

"She's _dead, dead, dead_, you hear?!" I screeched. "_I _killed that rotten kid! That stupid, rotten little _cowardly bitch _who was _always _emotional and got everything taken away from her! She can never come back now. Don't talk about her! She's not here!"

"But I was talking to her on the phone…" Matty stupidly said. Some people never change.

"You _idiot_!" I screamed with laughter. "No you _wasn't_!" I then, with all my strength, made Chris face Chase and I glared, beckoningly, at Chase, who was still bearing Harley's small handgun towards him. "Chase, do it! Do it now! All you have to do is think of _every sorry thing _this piece of shit did to you, including betraying you by trying to sleep with your girlfriend, and talking untrue things about you!"

"It's not…" Chase took a stifled gasp of the dusty air in the bar. "It's not…the right way…to settle…a situation…that didn't even get to me _that much_."

"For once in your life, Chase…be selfish," I preached, lowering my voice to that raucous 'princess' voice again. "Chris doesn't know this, but you're doing this for your _own good_. Just think logically. You'll never have to face betrayal from _this _man, again."

"You know…I'm starting to believe, that _really_, Chris _never _did try to sleep with…Shaylee…really. I'm starting to think it's all a lie."

"It's _not _a lie!" I roared. "Just do it, Chase!" I wanted to shoot myself when my voice crackled. "Please, just _do _it…I can never forgive you if we have to face the consequences for _not _doing it." I wanted to come out threatening but it almost sounded like I was pleading. "Please Chase. All you have to do…is pull the trigger, and it'll _all _be over and done with and we can forget about this whole silly situation. There has to be _something_ in you to make you do it. I know you…better than _anyone_. I _know _you're not a total coward. You have fight. So just do it. If you do it, it'll make this _so _much easier…for the both of us. Please just…just…_kill him_!"

"It's not right…" Chase spluttered, tears still streaming down his face.

"It's what's _fair_!" I shouted, my raspy voice echoing.

Maybe he wouldn't do it after all. Maybe I was wrong.

But I didn't need to worry, I knew a way round this. I had it all planned out since the phone call to Matty. I wasn't stupid. I knew what was doing.

The thing is, it would just be _easier _and go _smoother_, if Chase just pulled the goddamn trigger.

Chase had always been a stubborn person, and he was certainly showing it now.

I attempted to remain glaring at him, but by the look he gave me, I began to believe that maybe he was terrified beyond belief after all. I saw him inhale deeply, and then exhale a trembling breath.

"Chase, don't shoot him…" Matty piped up. "Please don't shoot him."

"Quiet!" I hissed, targeting my gun at him, before slowly lifting it towards Chris's head, and I felt his body flinch in fear. The adrenaline wind blew through me again, and it was a steaming hot wind.

Chase glanced at Matty, and then over his shoulder at the gaping-mouthed crowd. He then looked back at Chris, his creased forehead sticky with dripping sweat. His breath sped up frantically again, and my eyes widened when I saw his finger start to put pressure on the trigger, making it load. Chris started to squirm in my grasp, but with my improving strength I held him back.

The whole room was stunned into silence, even me.

That was, until Matty snapped the silence in two, by whispering, "Chase, please…don't be the criminal your dad is…Chase you _can't_…"

Chase looked at him, briskly. I could feel his frustration and confusion start to leap off him.

"I have no choice, do I?" he sobbed. "I _know _it's not right…I _know _it's terrible. I have to…I _have _to kill him." He paused as he took in a choked cry. "Or The Joker's gonna kill me."

There were several gasps from the crowd of people, and I saw several trying to file their way out, so I took action at once.

"You people stay _put_!" I screamed. "Don't you even think about running away!" I felt incredibly smug when they stopped in their tracks and stared at me. "This _is _what The Joker said if you watch GCN, people. He _did _warn the City he'd get teenagers into his gang and start doing terrible things! And look, it's happening!" I smirked back at Chase, while bolting my gun back into Chris's head. The time was shouting out to me as well as my head, and it made my anger just start to flare even more. Patience wasn't my strong point, if you haven't guessed by now. "So, Chase, are you going to do it or not?" I inquired, sharply. "Because, remember, I'm always here to help you."

"W-What?" he said, quietly.

"You heard," I said. "I'll help you if you can't. I'll wait until the very…_last_…moment…so _do _it…or make things harder. It's up to you. You _know_…killing is making a choice."

I felt quite proud at my own intelligence.

I kept my beady eye on the clock above. I would give Chase exactly one minute to find his courage. I was shaking, violently, with horrid adrenaline.

My head was saying, _Kill_, repeatedly.

I couldn't, not for another thirty seconds.

What was wrong with me? Finding it so difficult not to kill. It was awful, but brilliant at the same time.

I knew The Joker would boom through the door with the goons at any moment. Chris had to be dead, or _we _would be dead.

A minute slipped by. Chase's finger was still on the trigger, but Chris was still writhing in my grasp. Chase was weeping uncontrollably, tears making as puddle around his feet. He was shaking just as hard as I was. I peered briefly into his tidal eyes, and I saw nothing but complete devastation and confusion.

It didn't affect me in slightest, because I'd seen those eyes so many times. Not in Chase, but in my father's. I'd seen it too many times to care anymore.

Chase unleashed a groan of anger, while I traced my eyes to see two people slipping out of the door. I was about to explode my horror onto the bar with letting myself miss two women escaping my view, but then everyone turned their heads towards the door when we all jumped upon hearing double deathly screams erupt outside, followed by the sound of beautiful, deep laughter.

Chase gave me a worried stare. I raised my eyebrows and gave him one last chance, but he just continued to fumble before me.

_Kill, Jane! _they bellowed.

So, I had no choice but to do the dirty, cold-blooded work myself. With one deafening bullet, I tore through Chris's head with a blood-curdling plea, and then I let him fall to the ground, where he helpfully fell at Chase's feet. Chase burst into tears, which triggered the entire place to be plunged into sweet chaos.

Screams and yells of hoarse panic started to echo throughout the room, with all the inhabitants starting to scatter around the place, in a hurry to make their escape. There was pushing and shoving, and the barman and waiters unsuccessfully tried to keep everything under control. The panic and blissful chaos only increased when The Joker's men started swarming into the room one by one, loaded with large guns, and keeping themselves wearing those horrifying clown masks. It seems ridiculous that they all appeared so coincidentally that it was almost unreal. They had arrived onto the scene right when I was expecting them to show up. Shame they didn't come just a bit later. Maybe then Chase would have actually killed Chris.

The goons started graciously attacking and holding people immediately, but no one seemed to straight-up shoot anyone down. One thug, who I believed was Mikey, with his socks limp around his ankles, darted his gun towards the barman and demanded him money. One thug held Matty jammed up against the bar. I bet he regretted

While all this was going on, and before The Joker was bound to make his grand entrance, I yanked Chase to a quiet corner. He tried to give me his gun, but I pinned his wrist against the wall to keep it there.

"Listen to me," I hissed at him. "Keep it. Look, I gave you long enough, didn't I? You couldn't do it. Fine. But I said I'd help you, didn't I?"

"Why did you do that?" Chase asked, almost sounding grateful.

"Do you think I wanna get killed?" I retorted.

"But…what is this? How have they suddenly arrived?!"

"Because I ask them to."

"You what?!"

"Shhh! Yeah, this is a good place to collect hostages, isn't it? I gave The Joker a call before, he asked me to keep 'em under control while he was on his way, and then he can see your victim for himself…"

"You mean _your _victim!"

"Don't say I didn't give you long enough."

"But what are we going to do?"

"Chase, relax, sweetie. I had it all worked out from the start. If you didn't do it, then I'd do it for you, but then you'd have to lie to The Joker's face–"

"You _have _to be kidding me, right?!"

"No, Chase. I honestly thought you _would _do it and it wouldn't have to come to lying about it. Look, you should be _grateful_. I'm keeping both of our lives alive here and yet all you seem to do is bitch and cry about it. All you have to say to The Joker is you shot him through the skull after you interrogated him about what he's put you through, and everything will–"

I was cut off by a bone-crashing gunshot that silenced everyone, instantly, in the room. The Joker had entered the doorway like a tyrannical dictator, holding a large tommy gun, and was observing every part of the room, carefully with his dark eyes. His beastly presence immediately swung into the room when he stepped in. I was too busy staring at Chase, but I didn't need to look at him to feel the intimidation.

"Good afternoon, lovely people," he said.

He stepped into the building with large strides, and some of his men backed away, giving him space, loyally.

I gasped in delight when I finally glanced up at him entering and noticed he was carrying something soft and fluffy in his other hand. A cute little creature that was clawing onto the sleeve of his purple overcoat.

Where had Ace the Second appeared from?!

"Ace!" I squealed in excitement.

Joker slowly turned his head in our direction, and I saw him look down at the body lifeless below us, and then back up at our contrasting faces of joy and horror. A small smile planted across his lips. Then The Joker looked down at my puppy in his arms.

"Go get her, Ace," Joker said, gruffly, releasing the spaniel from his arms.

I gasped, joyously, and kneeled down. Grinning happily, I whipped my arms out to Ace the Second. He instantly recognised me and obediently trotted over to me, yapping happily to see his best friend again.

"Ace!" I called, in a soppy childish voice. "Hey, boy!" I scooped him up in my arms and his tongue flopped over his mouth, welcomingly, saying, _hey mommy_. This little mite was so much better than the first Ace. "Aw, how are ya, little rascal?"

I scratched his head and he barked, but I shushed him as I looked around me, finding everyone was watching this display uneasily.

"Alright, Jane, playtime later," Joker spoke up. He then declared to the whole room. "We are here…to send some of you on a little road-trip." He began walking towards the bar. "You're all going to be part of a little test in honour of your dear Commissioner Jimmy Gordon. Now, I don't want any of you to worry. Not _all _of you will be involved…" He chuckled. "An' I can't guarantee what Gordon's gonna decide." By now he had reached the bar and was leaning heftily on it, and scowled at the startled barman. "What's a clown have to do to get a drink these days?" he asked, playfully. All of the thugs jeered and laughed at his joke, including me. "Ah, I've been waiting to come to a bar for _so _long. Get me a cool beer, and be quick about it." He pointed the gun at him, quickly, and although hesitant, the bumbling barman nervously began to pull a beer. "You want a drink, PJ?" The Joker called over to me.

"No, thank you," I answered, sweetly, still stroking my puppy's head, like a diabolical cartoon villain.

"It wouldn't matter _anyway_, because you're underage," The Joker laughed, making all the male thugs laugh, too. A pint of cool bitter appeared before him on the bar, and he raised a satisfied eyebrow. He lifted it and casually took a swig like any man down the bar, before escaping and exasperated sigh of pleasure. He then skidded around to face the watchful crowd of people, still holding the glass, and asked the room, "We all clear?" No one dared to speak. "I'll take that as a yes. Take 'em all, boys. Apart from teens. We'll keep them."

The Joker just had to nod to make the chaotic atmosphere return. The thugs started gagging, torturing and pushing each person out of the doorway one by one. I watched Mikey start to pull Matty towards the doorway.

"Hey, you!" I yelled at him. The thug turned around, and I was unable to see his expression through his mask, but his inaudibility made him seem impatient. "You, wait outside with him, I want a word with him," I instructed.

The thug grunted irritably, but by now The Joker had joined us and glared at who I presumed was Mikey and Mikey was soon hauling Matty out of the bar, along with many others. I tried hard to ignore the other beatings that were happening inside, all met with screams of agony and horror, and just heartless laughter from the clown thugs, but it was hard to ignore when so much noise was erupting the room.

The Joker nodded down towards Chris's blood-spewing corpse at his feet, before directly towering above Chase. I saw Chase gulp hard and inhale a large gasp of air as he shook at his mercy. I could see the determination to be tough glimmer in his eyes.

"Did _you _do this, then, boy?" The Joker asked, softly.

I looked hopefully at Chase, clinging onto Ace in hope.

_Please don't be a fool_, I prayed, silently.

"Of course I did, sir," Chase replied.

I was taken aback at how confident his voice came out, from how small and wimpy he looked.

"Did you really?" The Joker said, licking his lips. He glanced at me for a slight second, but I just smirked at them both, feeling proud of my outcome. "How'd ya do it then? I won't be uh…_angry_ at your method either way. I'm here to help you. How did you kill him, then?" Joker gave the corpse a carelessly kick in the mangled left leg.

He suddenly pulled Chase closer to him by his shirt when he took his time answering, even making me stand back a little in surprise. Ace yapped in my arms and tried to run away, but I kept him under control.

"I shot him in the head," Chase explained, trying to sound as casual as possible.

The Joker groaned in annoyance.

"Did _Jane _tell you to do that?" he questioned, now sounding more impatient.

"N-No…sir…she didn't," Chase lied.

"Something you unhatched shrimps should know," he stated, mirthlessly. "Doing it in the head always seems to be a bit _cliché_ to me. I tend to explore a little more with _my_ victims. Mind you…I'm…a bit more experienced than you troublesome little teenagers. Exploring with the gun…it makes the kill _far_ more interesting." The Joker was explaining this certy carefully, sounding mighty proud of what he does, and talked about killing like it was a hobby. Mind you, it actually was, though, wasn't it? "You see…" he went on, slowly, smiling slightly. "It's especially more interesting when…all that's shown in a knife's reflection…you just get to see everything for what it really is. So, tell me. Was this man a coward when you killed him?"

"Yes."

"He didn't fight back?"

"No. I've always beaten him in fights anyway."

"Atta boy." He threw Chase against the wall, and Chase groaned at smashing his head on a portrait behind him. The Joker snickered at this amusing display. "Glad you got _that _creep out of your way," he told Chase. "Do you feel better now he's gone? Be honest."

Chase looked back down at the dead body, and reluctantly answered, "Yes."

"Are you pleased you killed him?"

"Yes, boss." Chase's voice escaped an involuntary crack, but Joker didn't seem to mind this, much to my amazement.

"Good. You sound honest. Now, you go join your weed-wrecked daddy and the others and I better see you clean your act up, young Chase."

Chase dragged his feet away from us, and headed out of the door, with his gun loosely swinging from his hand. His other hand gripped around the back of his neck, and his head drooped down to the floor.

I smiled pleasantly at The Joker.

"Well, I did it!" I sang. "Now where's my reward?"

"There _is _no reward," Joker snapped.

"So what's Ace for?" I asked.

"A treat. I got him for you back at James's house. Poor thing missed you, it seems."

"Yeah," I giggled.

"Look at me," he growled. I did so, instantly. "Well done, your ladyship," he said, plainly. "I'm pleased I don't have to get rid of you after all."

"I knew it'd do the trick," I said.

"He better up his game now or he's done with."

"But you said you wouldn't kill him when you had proof he killed somebody."

"Jane…beautiful, look at me. It only convinces a guy like me, if it's _consistent_. I'm a consistent guy, right?"

"I'll say."

"Now come on, princess. Let's get you sorted. We have work to do before Gordon's little _chaotic _downfall this evening. It's shaping up to be an interesting night tonight. The last time I felt so much, uh…"

"Adrenaline?"

"You could say _that's _the right word, but I haven't found so much pleasure since I visited Harvey's paralyzed face in Gotham General Hospital and it blew to kingdom come. There's been no reports of Batman turning himself in yet, so Gordon's obviously got no powers of persuasion. He has absolutely _nothing _to fight for his silly little family with except the detonator I'll give him. He's a commissioner _second_, is he? Well, I'm _always _an agent of chaos first, sweetheart. Always. And once it's done, then guess who'll be showing Gotham City's true colours that have failed to shine bright for all these glorious years for good?"

"You!" I chimed.

"Too right, pumpkin. Shall we make haste, then, my manipulative little monkey? Hmm?"

"Yeah!"

"Because just the people in _here_ ain't enough to fool the commissioner." He took another sip of his beer. "I must thank you for telling me about here. A very wise decision. It was a genius idea, Princess Jane. But first, there's something you must do before we all go back to that Cicero secretary building to collect the others."

"What's that?"

"Well, you've proven to me you're capable of breaking minds." My heart sank a little because I knew that that really wasn't the truth. "So…uh…hmm…" I almost saw the red flag wave triumphantly above his head. "As a matter of fact, ya know you talked about a reward?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's _do _that, shall we? Let's think of me giving you your reward right now. And then we'll pop out and join in the rampage, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan, daddy."

"You fascinate me. Come, your highness."

He led me it the door, past one remaining goon torturing a man, but Joker shot them both as we passed anyway, and I didn't even jump at the sight. Once we were outside, I beamed at the huge commotion that was happening. The idiot men were pushing the restrained, gagged hostages in an amazingly huge lorry, which was infested with smudged graffiti, saying words such as 'smile', 'laughter', 'the devil's clowns' and 'SLaughter'. I saw Matty was being forced to watch, still being held by that same guy. There were several corpses dotted around, others were weak, blood-painted bodies, struggled to get up and save themselves, obviously tortured so brutally they would be dead in several minutes time.

"Hey, boss, how do we know we have enough room for these lot?" one new thug asked, bravely, as we came over.

"That's why we have several other vehicles back at the building we were at before," The Joker replied, cruelly. He pushed him over like a school bully would. "Idiot!" He then looked at the several goons around the lorry, as the last few remaining hostages were being locked inside. "You, Zachary!" he shouted. A lanky goon, who was obviously a new recruit, obediently staggered over to The Joker's dangerous painted face. "Take the dog, and get my war paint prepared, _now_," he instructed, in that dangerous commanding tone.

"Yes, sir," Zachary said, and I carefully handed over Ace the Second.

"Be careful with him," I warned, glaring at the untrustworthy fool.

"James!" Joker barked.

"Yeah, boss?" James immediately came rushing over.

"See to it you your son gets a mask," Joker said, poking his gun into James's chest, emphasising his strict instructions. "Oh, _and _a pair of balls. Remind your little brat he works for _me_. I've given him enough chances now. Next time he shows, weakness, he's dead."

"Boss…he's only a kid, can't you–?" James began.

"Do I make myself clear, Delancey?" Joker asked again, eerily composed.

"Y-Yeah," James mumbled, reluctantly. "Sure thing, Joker."

"Oh and help me get the gasoline out the back," The Joker added, now grinning, craftily. "And some matches."

"Gasoline?" I repeated.

"Aw, doesn't little Jane know what that is?" James teased.

"Just _go_. _Now_!" Joker boomed. James nearly fell backwards and began running back over to lorry, which was now being securely closed. "And you help him, the lot of you!" Joker ordered, predatorily. He then looked at Mikey, choking Matty around his neck. "Apart from you, you stay there with that little scaredy-cat."

I laughed, spitefully, before looking back up at The Joker.

"So what's this gasoline for?" I asked.

"You're gonna blow up this place, Jane," Joker said, expressionless.

I stared at him. "You…you _what_?"

"No, not me. You."

"But…"

"Look, it's a little bar, there are plenty more in this City. Why? You scared to blow it up, hmm? You've let Chase watch his own victim die. This'll be much more fun. Whaddya say?"

"But…but if we put gasoline inside, all over the wooden bar, and I throw matches in it, it'll blow up straight away…including me…"

"Hey, hey, hey…" Joker, without warning, squashed my cheeks by pulling my face closer to his. "_That's _why…they're gonna put all that gasoline on the _porch _thing before the door first, and _then_–" He made a childish explosion noise. "And then, la-la-la…you run _away_…back to me, who'll be waiting in the driver's seat, ready to take these inhabitants away."

I nodded, approvingly, before Joker pushed my face away, almost toppling me over my high heels. He finished the rest of his beer in one glug, and began sauntering towards the thugs being overpowered to the ground with the insanely heavy gasoline tanks, three men were carrying. Joker just simply pointed towards the porch and the thugs immediately slugged over and started emptying the gasoline out onto the wooden area. Zachary nervously plodded over to Joker's side, and anxiously displayed the matches in his hand. Joker snatched them off him, and with a loud laugh, he kicked him to the ground.

He returned to me, and raised the matches to my faces, along with his thick, expectant eyebrows. I took them eagerly, and whizzed around to face Funky Fred's. I heard the lorry slam shut behind me.

The warm July wind was slowly dancing my ever-growing crimson bob, and I felt the goosebumps prickle up my arms, in my silken gloves. They even grew up onto my face, and I felt the paint start to crack. I took a few steps forward, and closed my eyes.

The voices grew louder, as well as the pounding.

Once I squinted my chocolate orbs open again, I immediately saw a bursting fire. I only had to look up and the bar's roof was cascading down with flames. My face was incapable of looking shocked or devastated anymore, so I just stared ahead, flatly. I heard a hum that filled my head with an irritating squeal of madness.

If it weren't for that moment of schizophrenic insanity at age thirteen, I would never have hallucinated flames. Thank goodness I'd already murdered the person responsible for that.

I was so immersed in my head, which was growing into a tree of insanity, I didn't even flinch when I felt The Joker come up behind me. His warm breath, which reeked with a smell I can't describe, blew on the back of my neck. Our painted faces met, and once again, he hugged me around my waist.

It was so creepy, but he was hugging me like a regular dad would hug his daughter again, like he was holding me so close and I was the only thing he had in the world, but I guess I was. (To some of you it may look like this waist-hugging business was scarily romanticised, but I promise you it wasn't like that. Dad used to hug me this way all the time, especially when I was a little girl. It was odd, but I swear it didn't feel like romantic of affectionate in that way whatsoever.)

From the corner of my eye, I then saw Matty still being held back by Mikey, and he was now kindly showing me his running taps from his eyes. I looked back at the gasoline-leaked porch. Then my eyes scurried to The Joker's face, a few centimetres from mine. I couldn't help but display him a large, cunning smirk.

"May I suggest something, first, boss?" I whispered, my unwanted psychotic baby voice breaking out again.

"What?" he said, blankly.

"That boy, over there." I nodded towards him but Joker didn't look behind him and remained staring at me with blackened eyes. I thought it was best to just come out with my idea than to explain it. I didn't need to explain myself to The Joker, he understood me and knew my corrupt mind inside out. "Can't we chuck 'im in? I'm tired of seeing his nerdy features. Out of all my friends as a kid, he was the weediest. The nerdiest. The one I put up with for the sake of it. Can't we throw him into the explosion?"

The Joker remained blank, but carefully came out of the hug. I watched him saunter over to Mikey and prisoner Matty Livingstone.

"Do as her highness pleases, Mikey," Joker ordered, his voice dripping with nothing but cold-heartedness, but having just a tinge of excited anticipation.

Mikey did exactly as The Joker said, but when he walked past me, I stopped Mikey in his tracked by tapping on his shoulder.

"Gag him," I droned like a robot. "I don't want to hear 'im. I want it done with, you hear?"

Mikey nodded and magically pulled out a gag from his pocket, before leading Matty into the bar. He violently shoved him to the ground, and punched him several times. Matty groaned in agony, but, much to my amusement, the moaning soon became muffled when the gag was strapped around his mouth. Mikey came away and helpfully slammed the door shut behind Matty, then sprinting over to the lorry to join the other thugs.

That would be the last I saw of him.

Like a lightning bolt, Joker came up behind me again, clutching the back of neck with his overwhelming strength, but I didn't dare flinch.

"Whatcha waiting for?" he grunted. "Do it. We ain't got all day, have we, little girl."

"No," I said, flatly.

"I'll be right here," Joker said. "About someone _else _showed that I'm the only person in this silly little town that blows things to kingdom come. _Do it_."

I was careful when lighting the match in case I set fire to my gloves, but I managed to get a nice, large flame. I gazed at it, lovingly. My hallucinated flames cheered upon seeing a real one before them, and like a tribal celebration circled around me. I gnawed upon my bottom lip in concentration, and licked the ulcers in my mouth, tenderly with my sharp tongue.

The Joker grunted impatiently, and I couldn't hold back any longer.

The beast had tugged away from its leash.

I threw the flame as accurately and harshly as I could, and I was shocked at my advanced targeting. The Joker grabbed me and hurriedly pulled me away from the building, which gradually expanded into flames, bursts of inky smoke started rising into the just as cloudy sky, making more black clouds, and thus, the symbolic atmosphere of the pitiful city. The smell of it roasting and decaying away before my very eyes just caused my veins to pump with more adrenaline-infested blood. I allowed The Joker to quickly push me into the seat next to him, but I didn't stop staring at my work. The flames were the colour of my victim's wounds, and they grew larger, burying themselves within the brick and wood of the building. The infernos snaked up the building and grew into a swirling bonfire, and the building became completely demolished, with the red letters 'Funky Fred's' crashed down onto the floor, and just before we drove off out of sight, the building completely exploded, making my eyes nearly crumble away.

A little fire goes a long way.

The next thing I knew The Joker's maniacal laughter blew up my mind, and of course, his laughter is so contagious, I went and laughed along with him.

The hostages were all toppling and crashing around behind us, the ones that weren't tied to the wall with strong double-sided tape on their wrists. The other thugs were all jeering and wailing at each other, presumably because they couldn't stand upright with The Joker's out of control driving.

On the way, we called Harley to have an update with the Gordon family. I wasn't sure how she answered since I had her cell phone. These were her exact words: "They're havin' great bonding time, puddin', 'cos I've tied them all together and been beatin' 'em one by one with the end of my bazooka, but no Gordon family were killed during this process. They were harmed, though, of course. They can't stop blubbering like proper freaks. It's so funny."

The Joker, of course, approved greatly of this and continued racing us all back to the secretary building in Cicero they were at before. I was cackling and whooping the entire journey, but Joker didn't seem to mind at all. The adrenaline in him was blasting through every inch of his, as I could tell, because a pogo-stick made him jump and down on his seat, like he was an excited boy at a soccer match.

When we arrived, I rocketed out of my seat, and the thugs instantly came scattering out of the truckload with their weapons, James locking it securely as The Joker joined us all. He had parked it in the building's car park, about five floors up. The sweetness of the captured people crying out their muffled pleas, made the realisation of how much we were owning the rest of Gotham stampede my mind. It was a good feeling. A very good feeling.

"Is that thing locked securely?" Joker asked, when he joined all his masked goons, loaded with his gun.

"Yes, safely _double _locked, boss," James said, banging the enormous, graffiti-patterned door, proudly. "Those lot won't be going anywhere. All of them are gagged and tied up, either against each other, or the walls, with some of that extra strong tape you gave us."

"Hmm," Joker muttered.

Personally, I couldn't even believe that we managed to get as many as we did in this one lorry.

"And they won't be trying to smuggle out," another new thug added. "Because there's gasoline and matches in there. If they knock them, they're in trouble."

The Joker nodded, and then ran his tongue over his lips again.

"Zachary, my war paint," he demanded, eagerly. Zachary stepped forward, with two large paint pots and a small red paint clasped in his hand with it. He put them at The Joker's feet. "Go get 'em, boys," Joker said. "Get as many as you can. And kill."

Like hungry head lice, all of them scooted off down the car park, to the up ahead elevators. Naturally, I went to join them, but Joker pulled me back by my top, and tripped into his chest. I gasped in surprise when he pulled me with him behind a wall. I jumped a little when he randomly shot a security camera above him, and he didn't even look when he did so.

"What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled.

"You're not going with _them_," Joker chuckled, beginning to walk back towards the pots of war pain. "You're coming with me." I couldn't help but feel a little special at that moment. "But first things first, let's top up your face, that's too pretty to be a criminal, shall we?"

He plodded over and dropped them at my feet with a humongous thud. I looked at him, expectantly, and gnawed his right glove of with his teeth. I watched him open the white paint and scoop a large amount on his fingers. Then, like he's spotted his helpless pray, he pounced on me and I was pinned against the all, and with a tiny grunt, he began to smother the paint on my face, primarily on the gaps it was fading.

"I could have done it myself, you know," I giggled.

"I know," The Joker replied, sounding like dad. "But I'm a professional, PJ. You're still in training. It's better me doing it. _Unlike _me, however, _your_ looks will make men fall to their knees because they feel a little fire in their loins when they see you…"

"Excuse me?!"

"Shh, shh…keep still. _Me_, however, _my _looks…they just strike fear into their breakable hearts. I'm a clown. It's what _natural_, Janey. _My_ heart isn't breakable."

"Because it's broken too many times it's now unfixable?" The Joker didn't answer. He continued smearing the clown makeup on my face. "You don't care about anything," I said, matter-of-factly.

"You're right," The Joker agreed. "And _you_ shouldn't either. There's nothing in this world to _truly _care about. The people in this world are only good when they're asked to be, or when they feel they _have _to be. If everyone lived in a world with _no _rules and _no_ corruptive morals, we'd _all _see everyone's inner madness. Especially in the part of the world we live in. So far, you're doing _good_, little one. All the people in this world…they're…"

"Crazy?"

"Mm-hmm. They call people like _us _crazy, yet…we're really the sane ones. They're the ones who are corrupted and insane. _Too _insane."

"Do you really believe I'm still 'in training' when I just exploded a building with one matchstick?"

"That _was _very adorable. You're on your way."

"On my way to what?"

"You'll see. Now, close your eyes."

I did so, and felt the coolness of my new layer of makeup shackle into my skin, so it felt like it was my natural skin. The Joker proceeded into painting black around my eyes, although he didn't do it gently, his harsh touch nearly made my eye sockets burst. Once he was done, he told me to open my eyes, and he put the wat paint back into the back of the lorry, before locking it double securely and returning to me, with two guns.

"Now what do we do?" I questioned, excitedly.

"We wait."

"For what?"

"Some fun. The fun comes to you."

"I thought you always had to find the fun yourself?"

"You could, but it's much for enjoyable…when it comes from the unknown."

He beckoned me out of the wall and pushed me forward, while he remained stiff as the wall he remained behind.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked Joker.

"You're going in for the kill, make the most of it," he answered.

"But there _is _no one to kill."

"Not yet. Just stand there…take it _all _in…prepare yourself. It'll make ya more…uh…"

"Brutal?"

"You could say that, but I prefer the, uh…the term…'fair.'"

"Fair?"

"And as for, uh…the brutality? Hmm? I already know you have that. What with torturing that brat Gordon Junior?"

I heard a car door batter come from behind me and darted around. Joker noticed immediately and threw me the gun, where I skilfully caught it and pointed it ahead of me.

"I heard something," I whispered.

Joker, completely menacing as always, emerged from the wall's shadow and joined me, carrying his own gun. Slowly, he handed me his own gun, without looking, and I took hold of it with my other gloved hand. I saw Joker reveal a sharp-bladed knife from his pocket.

Then, the victim was revealed, waltzing out from behind a Volkswagen that I didn't even notice was there. It was a slender woman, smartly dressed in black, with thick glasses. She had her back to us, walking away to the elevator on the other side of the car park. I beamed up The Joker, and his hungry eyes watched her walk closer towards the elevator. His eyes wandered down to my smiling face.

"Target locked," he said. "Call 'er, beautiful."

"Hey gorgeous!" I called out, joyfully.

She bolted around and immediately darted for the elevator upon seeing our figures start walking over to her. She started pressing the button frantically, turning around with horror, and her expression became clearer when The Joker and I sauntered closer to her. It was that joyous expression of horridness. That expression shouting to me that she was petrified. Well, who could blame her really?

"What have we got here, PJ?" The Joker asked, as we became up close to her.

She backed up against the wall in fright, the tears immediately flowing. If I had a nickel for the amount of tears I'd witnessed since becoming a killer, I'd have more money than the snobs in that building we were visiting had in their lifetimes.

"I don't know," I replied, sniggering hysterically, "but judging by her tight little skirt, seems we have a filthy slut."

"L-Leave me alone!" she cried. "P-Please! I…I don't have anything you'll want!"

The Joker grabbed her by her shirt and suddenly traced his knife around her face, in a circle, and then right across her scalp, where her howls of pain shattered the walls of the building's car park.

"Pipe down," The Joker snarled. "We haven't even started yet, lady."

"What do you _want_?!" the woman demanded. A tinge of crimson became dyed in her hair from where her scalp had started bleeding, making her wail in pain. "Security!" she screamed. "_Security_!"

"Ooh, I _do _hope they show up," The Joker gasped. He then shot his head up towards the security camera the woman was staring at, with her pleading eyes. "Come on!" The Joker beckoned at the camera. "Come on, so-called security. I _wanna _see you try and take us on. Shoot it for me, will ya, Jane?"

Although the guns were nearly dragging me to the floor with their indescribable heaviness, I lifted the one in my right arm up and effortlessly aimed and bulleted the camera, making the woman start to writhe and scream louder, but she had a poor chance against The Joker's incredible strength.

"Oh _do _shut up," I snapped at the woman.

"Well said, my dear," The Joker giggled. "I always like my prey to be…uh…how do I put this? Uh…incapable of talking. You wanna know why?"

"Why, sir?" I inquired, excitedly.

"Because I don't need to hear their words to tell me what they're _really_ like," he explained, in a callous, dark voice, filled with pleasure. "All I have to do, is look in their eyes. Eyes tell me everything. Yours are particularly nice, darlin'. Blue. You know…I once had a wife…with blue eyes…in fact, you look a little like her."

I looked closely at the victim. If The Joker was referring to my mother (even though they were never married in reality), he was right. She did look a little like her. She had her blue eyes and pale complexion, complete with the light brunette locks. Except she looked far more intelligent than I remember my mom looking.

"Bet she was more beautiful than she is, though, huh?" I said.

"Of course she was more beautiful," The Joker said. "She wasn't when she'd had a few, however."

"A few what?"

"A few…arguments. Anyway, Janey, there's something you're forgetting here. We don't think about the past anymore, do we?"

"Nope."

"Instead, let's focus on this impressive female. Now, open your mouth for me, sweetie."

She didn't need to because The Joker shoved her knife into her mouth, making her screams muffled and even more blood-churning. I listened to the cheers the demons were making in my mind as The Joker twirled the blade inside her mouth, her phlegm pouring onto the blood, which had red streaming into it, too. Her blood was very pure and dark. The Joker just simply snickered at her pain, enjoying every moment of jamming the blade into her mouth.

I was grinning at this display in front of me, until the elevator pinged and the door opened. Upon seeing this, The Joker slowly took the knife from her mouth and pushed her to the ground.

"Jane, grab her leg," he ordered. "And give me one of your guns." I did exactly as I was told, and The Joker held her head firmly to the ground, so she couldn't get away. "Now, quickly, put her leg inside the entrance of the elevator. Let's see how tough she is now, hmm?"

I laughed cruelly and with Joker's help, spun her around and pinned her right leg through the elevator. She lay there, helplessly, as the door closed and crushed her leg between the doors. She screamed in agony, but the door soon opened again.

I whimpered in an over-exaggerated way, in childish disappointment.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Just keep her there, we'll do this nicely," The Joker answered, sinisterly. "Take my knife." I reached over and took his knife off him, while he jabbed his gun into the side of her bleeding head, as the woman remained gasping and cowering before us both. I imagined it made the adrenaline in both of us be at its boiling point. "Now, your highness Princess Jane, you've shown be before that you can get rid of horrible little people, haven't you?" The Joker continued. "You can do it again."

"So do I get to stab her?"

"Like you viciously _stabbed _that poor young mother a few days ago, hmm?"

"Yep."

"You horrible little girl. Ya know…we only get rid the people who we see as the unwanted. She's probably got a _useless _little job here in this secretary building. At least _we _have jobs that benefit people. Benefit men and women like us."

"You _vile _human beings!" she suddenly barked. The Joker smirked at me as she carried on. "You, clown, are brainwashing this _poor _young girl into believing in anarchism. You sick person!"

"Now, princess…you're _not _gonna let her get away with saying that about you, are you?"

I glared down at the woman, and I shackled to my knees and dragged myself to her face. I made sure my words were clear and my diction was as thick as possible, so I was spitting into her face.

"Listen here, you bitch," I growled, gripping her face with my gloved hand. "I am _not _brainwashed. I may believe in a bit of anarchy, but I bet _you _believe in _far worse_."

"_Do it_, before we get more company," The Joker commanded, in his psychotic clown voice.

"Yes, sir," I giggled in _my _psychotic princess voice. The woman's body lurched when I slowly placed the knife under her ribs. Joker and I both snickered, nastily. "_Bye_," I whispered, in a possessive voice.

They told me to kill, so I did kill her. All it took were four firm stabs underneath the ribs. I didn't even have to do it that violently, because her skin was so tender and her clothes thin. I took in her screams and howls as I pounded the knife under her weak ribs. It was the most clichéd murder scream I'd ever heard, so I couldn't help but laugh at how pathetic she was. Trying to wriggle away, pointlessly, made me cackle even harder. My stomach ached with how hard I laughed. Even when her corpse lay there rotting, The Joker still let a gun off inside her skull, but I didn't question it. He pulled out a Joker card from nowhere and lay it on her wound, which was bursting with blood, as I had popped all the blood vessels underneath her ribs. The blood created a murky, crimson pool around her, which would more than likely stain on her disgusting fashion.

"Now, where _are _those boys?" The Joker muttered, as he stood up, shaking off what had just happened completely.

"I don't know _why _you hire pathetic criminals, like _those _guys," I scoffed, joining him.

He put out his palm and wiggled his fingers, expectantly, and I immediately gave him his now blood-dripping knife back, where he placed it, neatly in his pocket.

"Mikey and James are the only idiots left I started out with," The Joker said. "They seem to believe in the chaos. They're smart guys, keepin' the new ones under control. James certainly knows how to control his bratty son."

"Yeah, I guess," I agreed. "Although, Chase always said he hated his dad…"

"Hate is such an overrated word," The Joker chuckled. "I wonder if anyone's comin' to challenge the clowns of crime, huh, PJ?"

"Must be too scared," I laughed.

"Like your frigid ex-boyfriend. Not being personal, Janey, but we'll just see how tough he is now he's killed, allegedly."

"No, not allegedly. He _has_," I lied.

"God help him if killing hasn't opened pretty-boy eyes, but I believe I'm right when I say…I have faith in you, Princess Jane."

"You should. I'm loyal to you."

"You _are _proving to be, but in this world, you can't trust _anyone_."

"But you just said you have faith in me."

"I do, but that don't mean I trust you."

I swallowed hard. "So…you feel I would _lie_ to you?"

"Oh, _no_…I have faith you wouldn't lie to me. You'll be in a lot of trouble if you prove me wrong, however, angel face. But I don't trust you. No one in this world can trust anyone, not with the corrupted minds of the world. Not with everyone's inner madness controlling them."

"But…I trust _you_."

"Well, don't."

"But you're my–"

"I _know _what I am!" he barked, suddenly bashing his face into mine. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when I didn't even react. "That don't mean you should trust. My father…he…he _never _gained my trust. Ever. Every day I saw him fall about and make bruises on my fat mother's marijuana-infested head. I couldn't even trust that woman who gave you to me." He lowered his voice. "Now, unfortunate-ly…I _can't _get my revenge on her, because she was killed seven long years ago. But she's still been here. She still tells me I should smile more. She still tells me I'm nothing but a waste of air. She _still _tells me I worry too much. She told me _all _those things when you were just learning how to walk. I knew I'd lost faith in her precious little self when she started being selfish. All I've been exposed to is selfishness by society, as has everyone else in the world. I just wanted to try and be _unselfish _for so long…an' look what happened to _me_!" He paused for a few moments, glancing above him, like he was listening closely to the argument inside his head. "Now. We have a little experiment to carry out tonight." He licked his lips, now pulling me closer by my face. "I want you to be on point. Use that little mind of yours. You an' lover boy no doubt will work together, and don't let any of my idiot gorillas do anything to you. Because we know what happened _last time _that happened to you."

"You think I'll let them lot get the better of me?" I chuckled.

"I sincerely hope not, my little miscreant."

"Well, I won't, daddy. I won't let them get the better of Chase either. I'll make sure he'll stand up to them. Because he's got the balls."

"We'll see, daughter."

"Fine, father."

"You're special getting a man like me as your old man."

"_You're _special getting a daughter like me, who stand by you at all costs."

"You're paranoid, _that's _why. It's what those…stupid…_demons _do to you."

We both chuckled, loudly, as he pushed me away by my face.

As we waited for the thugs to return with the other hostages, Joker handed me some graffiti and he brought out the large baseball bat he'd used to torture Bobbi Gordon, and we spent a while casually torturing the cars and vans around us, apart from the ones we were going to use to transport the new hostages to 52nd Street that night.

The few security that tried to come and stop us, we killed and tortured violently together. It was brilliant because it was like old times, except much viler and _much _more fun. The Joker stabbed one guy like a ferocious animal, and I stabbed the other guy when I had him backed up against the wall. Another three came after us, and Joker ordered me to bullet the smallest one, while he tortured the other two with the bat, shot them through their brains, and then scarred a Glasgow smile on each of their deceased faces. I couldn't help but feel a gush of pride when he praised me for my work.

It's sick, but we didn't care.

Finally, the thugs came scattering back down to the car park after a long while, with ten or so gagged hostages being pulled with them. The Joker, frighteningly annoyed as he was, ordered three more to go into the lorry with the others, while the rest were shoved into James's car, and what turned out to be Mikey's white van. I didn't have a chance to check out all of the people they'd gotten because I got caught up in helping Chase, who now had a silly clown mask on, help the hostage he'd got hold of into Mikey's van. It took us so long that by the time we'd done, all of them were securely under our mercy and tied up in the three different vehicles, ready to be shipped off.

Mikey drove his van, and James drove his car, with Chase unwillingly joining him in the front passenger seat. The Joker rode the large lorry, with me next to him. On his orders to travel to 52nd Street, The Joker shot off through the streets to our destination, sure to provide us with demented victory, with the others close behind, now with nobody on our tracks. We heard the captured people crashing and rolling around behind us, while we had the windows down, the wind bashing into our painted faces, and my ever-growing hair was flowing in the wind.

I took it all into my head. The work we had created. I felt so relaxed at that moment with my twisted, intelligent mind, sitting next to my insane father, who drove the lorry ridiculously fast.

Even though it was far from 11pm, but was growing shadowy in the sky, The Joker drove us all to 52nd Street. 250 had been blown up and demolished since the death of Rachel Dawes, so the forty or so hostages were all pushed into the building opposite, number 249. All the thugs were busy getting them all in there one by one, in the largest room on the bottom floor, along with huge tanks of gasoline, which looked like they appeared out of nowhere, and the goons slashed the hostages' heads and beating them at the same time, as they dragged their weak bodies into the large, secluded building, that I didn't even know what was for.

The Joker told me to stay outside with him, which I did, and he soon handed me a cell phone.

"Ring Harley, and tell her to move herself and Gordon's wretched family here, immediately," he instructed.

"Yes, boss," I said, at once.

Harley picked up the phone in two seconds.

"Hey, Mister J!" she sang.

"Harley, it's Princess Jane," I told her.

"Oh, hey, honey," she said, pleasantly. "Where's my J? What's he doin'?"

"He's with me. We're at 52nd Street right now, and all the guys are getting the hostages tied up in number 249, opposite the destroyed building. He wants you and Gordon's family down here right now."

"No, problem, Pricey! They're all _so _excited to come, now! I'll be makin' my way now!"

"Good, now, bye." I ended the call before she could say another word. I looked back at Joker, who was watching his thugs with very strict eyes. He was also glancing behind our vehicles to search for trouble. "She's coming now, sir," I told him.

"Good." He snatched the phone off me and patted the top of my head.

"Shouldn't I help them, now, then?" I asked.

"No, we need to search for cops or any of the other 'extra help' that may come and try their wits against poor old me. Including the Batman."

"What if he shows up?"

"Simple. I kill him. I made a promise that I'd kill him to the mangy mob dealers a while back, but when I had the chance that night of my social experiment, he couldn't kill me because of his stupid self-righteous reasons, and I didn't kill him, because I know…there was another confrontation yet to occur between us."

Luckily for us, no one did spot us. This street was practically abandoned as it was.

Harley arrived fifteen minutes later in Ivy's pink van. She shot open the back door, and pointed a gun in front of her.

"Come on, out with ya!" she yelled.

Bobbi and James Gordon trotted out, with their hands tied behind their backs in rope, while Harley reached in and pulled out the wife of the commissioner, by her raggedy hair and slammed the door shut. She spotted us, beaming brightly, and then forced the family to walk towards us, with her gun pushing their backs. Once they reached us, going around the lorry and cars, Harley kicked them to our feet.

"What took you so long?" The Joker demanded.

"The streets are _chaotic_, puddin'," she replied, sweetly. "That's why."

The Joker, surprisingly, smiled at her, and beckoned her over with his finger. I made sure Gordon's family didn't run away, by giving them a warning glare down upon them. I saw The Joker pulled her into an embrace, and she squealed in pleasure.

"The night's ours, pooh," he purred. "I _know _the streets are filled with chaos. That's what I want, hmm? Now, be a good thug, and lead this stupid little family in there, the largest room on the second floor, the guys _should _be filling it up with gasoline tanks. Put them in there, and then tell that Zachary kid to guard the citizens on the first floor, and you can continue looking after these guys, because you've been so good at it so far. Until five minutes to eleven, come back out here, understood?"

"Yes, Mister J," she cooed.

"Good. Now do it."

He chucked her off him and she soon started pushing the family inside the building. I then eagerly looked back up at him, and his eyes ran down to look at me, again. He remained quiet.

"While Zac's guarding the citizens, and Harley's guarding the family," I said, "what are the rest of us gonna do?"

"You go on the top floor, and have some well-earned rest," was The Joker's unbelievable answer. "And if any hostages escape, I…won't…be happy. You know? And if Harley or Zachary need anyone's help at any point, you do it. Under my orders. All of you come back out here at five minutes to eleven, and we'll proceed. Is that clear, little scoundrel?"

"Yes," I said.

Once everything was in place, I informed all the other goons about what needed to be done. Zachary guarded the forty-odd hostages on the first floor, while Harley guarded the family on the second. We all went to the top floor, where we discovered a nice, confined little seating area. They were all there, me, James, Mikey, and four others I didn't know the names of, and when we first sat down in there, Chase was with Zachary, assisting him on keeping the last remaining hostages under control, but said he would join us as soon as the task was done. The Joker kept in touch for the first ten minutes via a walkie-talkie that James had, but then left us alone by simply saying, "You know the orders. You better follow them or there'll be trouble," and then cutting us off.

Like it was a necessity, the goons immediately brought out the marijuana and started smoking it religiously. Mikey started boasting about how much he used to sell it, which the rest of them seemed to find totally hilarious. Some were even sniffing cocaine. Just watching them touch the stuff made my blood bubble up with anger, but as long as they didn't offer any to me, or merely started talking to me, I just remained quiet, trying to control and quieten my mind before the big test that night.

JoI had to prepare to fight, to kill, to be that sadistic killer I was becoming, because I _wanted _to. I had that sensational urge inside me, and the guiding voices to prepare me.

I thought everything was going to go to plan that night, and I'd get an amazing few hours to compose my head before the madness plunged itself at me.

But then, Chase burst back into the room, panting what seemed to be a million breaths. He, for some reason, was holding a gun. Everyone, naturally, stared at him.

"Who...who did this?" he stammered. Some of the thugs began to chuckle. "I don't think it's funny," he snapped. "I come back from helping Zachary securely tie up the last remaining hostages and...and–"

"Now, what's up with you, son?" James scolded.

"Dad, may I have a word?" Chase asked, intolerantly.

"What?"

"Alone."

"Don't be a pussy, son," James scoffed. "If you have something to say, you can day in front of everyone."

"Fine. Are you responsible for capturing Darrell and Hannah?"

My eyes widened. I felt a surge of vomit crawl at the back of my throat. Chase glared towards me for a slight moment.

"No," James said.

"Did you even know they'd been...you know..." Chase panted. "I was so stupid for not knowing the secretary building we were at...that's where Darrell and Hannah work. I didn't realise it..."

"Your point is?" James retorted.

"The...The Joker promised not to hurt anymore of my family...and...and they're hostages...upstairs...that Zachary and Harley are guarding..."

"And you've only just noticed _now_?" James laughed.

"Dad, please..."

"What?!"

"You have to help me get them out."

"Who are these people, anyway, James?" a droopy-eyed thug asked, taking an inhale of his line of marijuana.

"My ex brother and sister-in-law," James replied, exhaling his own, arrogantly. "Hannah was the sister of my ex-wife. We couldn't stand each other. They're both upper-class snobs anyway, and that Hannah was a slut anyway."

They all splutters into cruel, baritone laughter.

"Was this Hannah blonde with a bob?" the same thug asked.

"That's the one," James chuckled.

"Yeah, I snatched her from the reception desk," he boasted. "She had language like a sewer."

They all burst out laughing yet again.

But Chase wasn't laughing. His entire face had flushed the same colour as my hair, and his eyes were beginning to sting from his pained expression.

"So it was _you_?" Chase demanded to the boastful thug. "Who took them?"

"Yeah, so what?" he hissed. "How was I supposed to know she was, uh...you're..."

"My aunt," Chase finished, angrily.

"Yeah. I didn't know, did I?"

"I suppose to took my uncle too, huh?"

"Oh, Chase just drop it, will you?" James sighed.

"No!" Chase sounded absolutely livid.

"We can't do anything about it, son," James went on, impatiently. "The Joker has them hostage now. I can't go rescue them."

"You...you're...you're supposed to be my _dad_!" Chase cried.

"Yeah, I know I'm your dad."

"And you're just going to stand there and watch me go through this?"

James rose to his feet and started walking over to his son, while Chase scowled at him with nothing but detest. James flicked his marijuana away and faced Chase. All the other thugs and I watched with great interest.

"Chase..." James began, touching his shoulders.

"Don't touch me!" Chase growled.

"Listen to me, son. You seriously want us both to get killed by that maniac? I don't."

"Then why'd you join this gang in the first place, you bastard?!"

"I didn't have a choice. That...that clown lunatic gave me freedom from jail and my life spared if I helped him."

"I would rather have died."

"Chase, you're not listening. I'm lucky my ass has been spared this far, you know? You're lucky yours has well. Don't be an idiot and get yourself murdered by him by freeing your aunt and uncle, especially with _my _help."

"But they're family, dad...The Joker said he wouldn't hurt any of them anymore. I have to get them out. You understand that, surely, don't you?"

"But they're not _my_ family anymore, are they?"

"How can you be so selfish?! Shows how much you care, huh, dad? If you really loved me you'd help me, but once again you're putting crime before your son."

"Actually, I'm saving your life. I'm saving you from being killed."

"You've always said you loved me and all this, but if you really did–"

"I'm saving your life. You're my boy. I'm not losing you. Not like this."

"Well, you lost me years ago, didn't you?! You should be willing to help me and risk yourself getting murdered as a punishment for my sake!" James couldn't answer him, and just sighed. "See, you've got nothing to say!" Chase wept.

"You're trying to blackmail me," James mumbled.

"What? How am I?"

"Trying to force me to help you–"

"I would've thought you would try to help me, since your, apparently, my father and that! Yet you don't give a fuck. Some father you are."

"I've always been a father to you."

"Bullshit!"

"I've always tried to be in contact with you and your controlling mother!"

"Don't you dare bring up my mother!"

"It's her fault I haven't been able to see you! Bringing you back here to the crime capital that is Gotham when you were nine. I come back here to try and see you again and she throws it all away! Your mother's nothing but a bitch to me!"

"Can you blame her, really?"

My foot was tapping with impatience, and I couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Uhh! You've probably had this argument a million times can we get back to what we were actually discussing?!" I barked.

James whirled around and glared, dangerously at me.

"You shut up, psycho bitch," he snapped.

A fire inside my head started rising, causing my head to reel further.

"What did you just call me?" I questioned, softly.

"What you are, a psycho," James snapped.

"Dad, don't..." Chase hissed.

It was then I noticed that James was unarmed with a weapon and Chase was. I gazed at Chase, and my intelligent eyes sparkled.

"Oh just shoot the waste of space already," I said, pretending to sound sarcastic. "His voice grates on me anyway."

James darted back around at his son.

"You wouldn't shoot _me_, would you, son?" he asked.

"N-No..." Chase replied.

"Just knock him out, James dude," a goon blurted out behind me. "Your son's nothing but a little pussy anyway."

"You're right," James said. "He is."

"You really think so?" Chase bravely argued.

"You can't even _sound_ intimidating," James taunted, bashing his face into Chase's and backing him up against the wall. "I always thought a son of mine wouldn't be a faggot."

"Oh so now I'm a faggot because I don't believe in crime?" Chase inquired.

"But you haven't stopped _crying_ since...since..."

"Since I saved your life instead of Bradley's," I pointed out.

"Yeah!" James exclaimed. "You should be more grateful we've kept you alive up to this point, but, yet, you've _never_ been grateful to me, have you?!"

"Because you've never been there for me!" Chase yelled. "You were in and out of my life when I was a kid and then just completely abandoned me! Even a criminal..." He whimpered softly. "Even someone like a criminal can still be a good father. I've seen it."

My heart started beating with involuntary gratefulness. Chase and I's eyes met just like they used to for one tiny moment.

There was a terrible silence. Only James's heavy breathing could be heard.

Suddenly, a goon shouted out, "James, pal, is this really the time to be discussing you and your brat's life stories?!"

All the idiots chorused in their laughter again.

"No, it's not," James stated. "We'll be called out soon to keep the commissioner's family under control."

"Don't think your cowardly son will be up to it, though!" a thug jeered, followed by more sniggering.

Usually cruel laughter like theirs would be contagious to me, but this time, I felt my head starting to bash out of control again, along with my blood, and my breathing. I bolted to my feet, clutching my gun that was next to me, and darted it at all of the thugs who had been watching James and Chase very closely, like I had.

"Don't underestimate Chase, assholes!" I shouted. "He killed someone today, _actually_ when we were at the bar! Didn't The Joker tell you?!"

"Jane..." Chase started.

Like they were stuck together with tape, they all rose to their feet and began to gather around me, led by Mikey, like he was a leader. I didn't feel intimidated in the slightest, due to dad's fearless genes, and glared up at all of them.

"You gonna try and get smart with us, little girl?" Mikey finally spoke up.

"I'm _not_ a little girl!" I answered back. "If you had ever payed attention to The Joker he would have told you all I'm dangerous!"

They all, including James, spluttered into cold-hearted cackles.

"Dangerous my ass!" one of them snickered.

Mikey came up close to me.

My head began to yell. I blinked hard and a vision of Theo haunting my presence came before me. My body jerked violently with the suddenness of Theo's hallucination, and I involuntarily stepped back away from Mikey, who was simply laughing in my face, like Theo was.

No. No this can't happen to me again. I can't have another one of his goons weaken me.

"Looks like the crazy little bitch is frightened, boys!" Mikey jeered.

"Stay away from me or I'll shoot you!" I threatened, loading the gun, warningly.

"Ooh, here we go!" another cackled.

"Leave her alone, bastards!" Chase cried out.

"Stay away, I warn you," I said again. "It'll get me _so_ worked up. Do you want that?!"

"You don't want that!" Chase wailed.

"_Shut up_!" his father hissed, and I saw him restrain him up against the wall harder.

"You're messing with criminals in a man's world, doll face," Mikey snarled.

"You must be an idiot for trying to threaten someone with a gun, you shithead," I declared.

"And you must be an idiot for believing The Joker cares and protects you," Mikey went on. "Because everyone here knows that what you believe."

"That's not true," I snapped. "Everyone, even me, knows he's incapable of caring about anyone or anything! And to be honest, it's rubbed off on me."

I gasped when Mikey's hand rose as it looked scarily identical to Theo's builder palms, and I immediately jabbed the gun into Mikey's chest, where he froze.

"Don't...you even think about touching me, Theo," I growled.

"Theo?" he spluttered.

"Don't you trigger my mind, now," I warned.

Mikey flopped his arm beside him and scoffed, making a horse noise with his mouth. All the other goons quietly watched around me.

"You're crazy, you are," he foolishly said. "All you want is the attention on you. You're nothing but an attention-seeking whore!"

That was it. He'd asked for it. My head made me violently shake as it screamed for me to shoot him. So I did.

All the thugs gasped in horror but I remained gazing at his now blood spewing corpse, filled with that rush of achievement dad always talked about.

"Right, that's it, grab her!" a goon suddenly instructed, his voice filled with hatred.

"No! Stay away!" I screamed.

It was too late. Two thugs pulled me onto the floor by my arms and then kept me pinned down by them, snatching my gun away. Another came and pushed down my head. I was kicking my legs crazily, and the walls of the room started crashing down with my blood curdling screams.

"No! Get _off_ her!" I heard Chase weeping out. "Don't kill her!"

"Stay out of it, brat!" the thug who was now at the end of my legs snapped at Chase.

"Dad, let _go_ of me!" Chase cried. "_Please_ let go of me!"

"Chase, what's gotten you hysterical?" James questioned. "Why are you...?"

"I can't let them kill her! I can't watch it!"

"So...was she telling the truth when she said...?"

"Said what?!"

"That...that she once knew you? Is that why The Joker made her choose between you and Bradley?"

By now a thug was trying to yank my boots off but I kept on violently kicking him away, and he grunted loudly, his anger rubbing off on me tremendously.

"James! Help me keep this crazy chick under control!" he shouted.

With a loud groan, James came over, and I didn't realise how strong he was as he pinned each of my quivering legs to the floor.

"That's better," the other goon at my legs chuckled.

"_NO_!" I screamed.

All I could think right then was: _Please Chase, save me. Find that little bit of love for me and save me. Just shoot one of them. Any of them, please._

"Dad, what are you _doing_?!" Chase shouted. I heard him sprinting over to him. "You _bastard_! You fucking bastard! Don't help to kill her!"

"Why not, son?!" James yelled back. "All she is a crazy, obsessive bitch. That's it!"

"The Joker will kill you if you kill her!"

"Why will he?"

"Because..."

_Please don't say it_, I silently prayed. _Please don't tell everyone_.

"Because he just will!" Chase stammered.

"_Shut up_!" the other thug bellowed.

I couldn't see properly but I knew he pushed Chase to the ground.

Nothing was said now as I tried with all my might to escape, but it was no use. There were too many. It was easier with Theo, as there was just him attacking me like a cannibalistic killer, but now there were five guys jamming me to the ground.

For one slight moment, I did actually wish they'd just kill me right there and then, to end it all before I was truly broken.

My clothes were now being clawed upon by the man at my legs, and all I could do, other than try and fail to get away and reach out for my gun, was whimper Chase's name.

And he heard me.

I heard him say the name Shaylee ever so gently.

Then all I remember next was...a crashing gunshot, a "No!", and then a terrific force fall on top of me, making me squeal in surprise.

And then a stunned silence.

"You…you little _bastard_!" a goon above me, at my arm, shouted.

Then, like a swarm if pigs flew above the building, they miraculously released me and my head pounded against the floor, only making it start to pound with madness. I sat up on my elbows and my heart stated to rip out my ribcage when I saw the body on top of me was the goon that was about to do god only knows what to me. His blood was pouring onto my clothes and I quickly pushed him off me and his body flopped beside me. I looked up in horror to see they were now all ganging up on Chase, but James was trying to push through them all.

"Don't hurt him!" he was begging.

"So the little man's got balls after all!" one thug laughed.

"We better not let him catch up to our standard!" another cackled.

I desperately looked around me and saw my gun was laying a few steps away from me, and I struggled over to it and gripped onto it firmly, before scurrying to my feet.

James was now saying, "Don't you _dare_ harm my son!"

He was still trying to push past the crowd that were gathered around Chase, who was bravely yielding his gun at them.

"Why? He needs some balls!"

"No! You'll hurt me first!" James yelled.

"That should be no problem," I said. They all immediately shot round to face me. "You're all pretty stupid," I continued. "Letting me loose because Chase finally plucked up his courage! You guys can't really defend for yourselves. You all have to be like sheep and do everything as a group. Who's been the one doing things for herself?" I loaded the gun. "Me! And you know what? I only get rid of people who unwanted. In my view anyway. Might as well get rid of your worthless ass right now, huh?"

So I did. I shot James and he silently fell to the floor, blood instantly crawling onto the tile ground.

I smirked but it soon faded when a goon launched himself at me, but I shot him straight away and his lifeless body collapsed at my feet. Another came at me, but I shot him dead as well. And then the last one who tried to lay their hands on me.

Soon a beautiful pile of corpses were separating myself and Chase, and we just stared at each other for a long while. He dropped his gun onto the floor with a loud clatter, and he soon joined it, crashing down onto his knees. Chase ruffled his hair and then his hand became clasped over his face. The next thing I knew he was bawling into his hand, sobbing every last inch of his soul to the floor underneath him. I felt a tiny rip of pain in my heart, but I tried to remain unreadable in my face.

"Chase?" I whispered.

"What have I done?" he sobbed softly. "What have I _done_?"

"You...you did it."

"Bet your overjoyed _now_."

"Chase...you...you just saved my life."

"I couldn't watch them...kill you...or torture you or whatever horrid thing they were going to do!"

"They...they were going to rape me, Chase."

"Don't _say_ that! Now...look at what I've done! I'm such a...oh god…" I could barely understand a word he was saying because he was crying so much. "I feel so worthless...so..._heartless_...I just...look at me, Shaylee. Look at what I've done! I…I just killed a man…but…I couldn't let him hurt you…it was just a moment of…panic, I guess…I…a moment of…I just…panicked…I was _worried _they were going to torture you until you died…I…I had my gun, and I…I just…"

"You did the right thing."

"I don't think I _did_."

"Would you rather just watch them and your dad batter me like I was some sort of plaything?"

"Of course not...but...my _dad_...he's dead now...he's _dead_...and _you_ killed him!"

"Didn't you hear what he said?! He'd be hurt before you were."

"That doesn't mean you had to _kill him_! Now I don't have my dad. _Ever_! Why did you do, that, Shaylee?!"

"I…I don't know…but…you just called him a bastard…and…he's _never ever _bothered with you. I mean, _I've _never even seen him until I joined The Joker. You even just _said_…that even a criminal, can be a father…and he never was some sort of dad to you. You even told me, ages ago, that he'd be better off dead because he's no sort of father. I…I'm sorry."

"Do you think _Harley's _sorry for killing your _mom_, then?!"

"That's got nothing to do with this…"

"Harley killed your mom seven years ago…and you said she didn't mean to...but, I bet…right at that moment when she did, she probably enjoyed it. Like you."

"No. No! _No_! Don't be stupid!"

"I'm _not_!"

He groaned deeply and both his hands now became buried in his face.

"Chase…I…I'm sorry," I said. "I…I didn't think…"

"_What_?"

"I didn't think you'd react this way. I thought you wouldn't care because he was a deadbeat."

"Well in all honesty, _I _didn't think I'd react this way either. But you never got on with _your_ mom, yet, _you _still got upset when she died, didn't you?"

"Upset is an _understatement_."

I looked at him for a few, long moments. My head was still whirling, with little voices nipping away, as well as mom's screaming since she had now been mentioned. My heart was still throbbing so much blood around my exhausted body.

"I just…can't believe it," Chase wept. "I just…what have I _done_? I'm a _monster_."

"No!" I couldn't help but run over to him at that moment. I knelt beside him and tried to look at him, but he refused to even glance at me. "You're _not _a monster. Not in the slightest."

"But you just saw what I did…I…I didn't think, I…I just…sorta…I didn't…"

"You did it to save _me_…didn't you?"

"Y-Yeah…I only did it to save you. Only because I love you…but…but I _shouldn't _love you. My heart shouldn't be still beating for you. I should have kicked you out of my life while I had the chance, but…I still kept coming back because I love you so much."

"And…and…those guys...they were about to attack me…_you_ after me…you know…and I couldn't let them. I saw you weren't about to do anything to stop them, so I shot them all before they attacked me because then they would _surely _go straight back to you…"

"And…and I'm grateful, but…I shouldn't love you. You killed my cousin, and _now _you killed my dad. Just…what is _wrong_ with you?"

"You _know _what's wrong with me, and it's something I'd much rather _not _talk about, Chase! And I only killed Bradley to save _you_, if you remember rightly, and it was also a _punishment_! I killed your dad, because–"

"You had no reason."

I couldn't answer him because I _had _no answer. When I shot James, I believed I was doing the right thing, I believed I was helping Chase, but now that Chase had plunged the reality on me, I realised I just killed James because I could. However, I thought Chase wouldn't be this distraught.

"Chase, I…I'm sorry, like, but you know…"

"I can't believe I just _shot_ someone, to save the life of the girl I _shouldn't _love anymore."

"But that means…you still care…and if I offered my help to you right now, you'd take it."

"Help for what, exactly?"

"Well…your aunt and uncle. They're captured, are they?"

"I saw them when I was helping Zac and Harley with the last few hostages…they were tied up…and…they didn't recognise me because I had a mask on…The Joker _promised_…he gave his word…"

"But he also said if they're in the wrong place at the wrong time then he can't do anything about it. _He _don't know that's your aunt and uncle, does he?"

"Shaylee, I can't just leave them there and watch them be exploded tonight with the rest of them. I can't allow it. Then I'll only have my mom left…and I _still _don't know if she's alright."

I sighed heavily.

"Just look at me," I said, filled with embarrassment. "I'm…I'm turning back into _her _again. _Again_."

"I just…"

"I know. You can't believe it."

"But I don't know _why_ I helped you…I don't..."

"Because you, uh…still…uhh…"

"Love you."

"And you're right. You shouldn't."

"But I just _couldn't _watch them…."

"And I couldn't watch _them _attack _you_."

That's when he finally looked at me, and I felt butterflies, something I hadn't felt for a long time.

"Why is it emotionally impossible for me to hate you?" Chase asked, with a trembling voice. "Because I _should _hate you for what you've done."

"I was just thinking the same thing," I said.

"But…I just can't believe you would do that to me, after you promised not to hurt anymore of my family. You broke your _promise_!"

He suddenly stormed to his feet and started pacing around in his own circle. I stood up, too, leaving my gun on the floor. I straightened my hair as well as my gloves, battling to show I didn't care I killed James. Because I didn't care. I only cared…well cared a _little _that I'd hurt Chase.

But then I remembered:

"If I remember rightly your dad wasn't mentioned in the deal," I stated.

"What?" he snapped.

"You said not to hurt your mom, aunt and uncle, you never mentioned your dad."

"I…I didn't really class him as family…at the time…because he's a twat…"

"Exactly! So I don't know why you're so mad at little old me!"

Chase smashed his face into mine, but I didn't even flinch.

"It's the fact that little old _you _did it for no _reason_!" he growled, his spit dotting onto my face.

One of his eyes was hiding underneath his now greasy fringe, so his gaping eye had the job of showing me the fires somersaulting within them. I wasn't in the slightest intimidated, as much as Chase was trying to be.

"Of course there was a _reason_," I retorted.

"What then?" Chase demanded.

"I'm sick of arguing with you when I'm _supposed _to be a criminal beauty around here…."

"No! Tell me now!"

I folded my arms in flaring impatience.

"Okay. You know I only kill people who are useless, _worthless_. Don't bring any morality to the world. Unfortunately, your _dad _was one of those people."

"I guess, but–"

"It's not like you're gonna mourn over him for long or miss him, is it? He hasn't been there. It'll _just _be like how things were before."

"But…but still…he's my father…and _you killed him_!"

I certainly didn't expect the sudden blow to my face when Chase unexpectedly hit me across my cheek. I have to say, it was the hardest one he'd ever given me, forcing me to look away from him and it made my eyes crush close as a gunshot went off in my head. I stroked my stinging cheek and felt the crumbling paint was still in fact. I panted hard, fluttering my eyes open, and shook my head to relieve the shock.

Chase should know better. He should have known by now that doing that only pounds my head away faster.

"_You_…killed someone as well," I finally argued, facing him again, cautiously.

"Well that was only to save you…which I'm starting to regret horribly right now!"

He went to strike me again, but this time I was wide awake, and quickly grabbed his arm again before it slashed my cheek. I raised my eyebrows in adoration, but gave him a cheeky smirk that I couldn't help but plaster on my face.

"You won't regret it when I say…" I said, "I'm still here to keep my promise!"

Chase's forehead suddenly smoothened as his frown vanished. We both lowered our arms.

"Wh-What?" he whispered. I groaned, as I realised what I'd just said. I only _said _it to gain his trust again. "You mean you'll help me?"

"Chase…I-I didn't _mean_…"

"Please…"

"If I get caught, I'll get killed by The Joker. That's the last thing I want, you know that."

"Can't you think of a plan to get around it?"

"Can't _you _think of one?"

"Well…"

"Chase…I know…I made you a promise, but…"

"You _can't _break your promise! Not now! You _have _to be that girl just for one tiny moment!"

"That's the problem. If I help you, I'll be…" I groaned, loudly, in frustration, grabbing my head. "I don't know what to do." My face turned away from Chase's, and I muttered to myself. "What am I _saying_? No. I _can't _help you. I _won't _help you."

I got the shock of my life when I felt his hand slowly turn my chin around to face him again.

"Please, Shaylee…" he whimpered.

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

"Jane. Please, I…I just need your help."

"No."

"Why _not_?"

"Don't you think I've helped you enough recently? I helped you get away with killing Chris, helped you when you stupidly passed out on purpose from alcohol last night. And why? Because once again, you're proving to be my weakness. I _can't _have a weakness. I _can't_ let you break me again! I won't let you do it!"

"Okay. Can I ask for a deal?"

"No."

"If you help me free them, you won't ever have to help me again. I'll defend for myself, because…I _can_."

"You can't."

"Please, Jane…we only have about half an hour before Gordon gets here and he may blow up my aunt and uncle. I can't let that happen."

"I have to follow what The Joker says. He's my father."

"But…but…"

"Look, Chase, you understand why I can't do it, right?"

"You're not completely insane like The Joker, you know. You may be out of control and off your head, but you still have feelings. I _know _you do. How many times do I have to tell you? I can see it in your eyes right now."

"Not anymore."

"Look, just help me, _please_...I'm _begging _you. I won't ask for anything more but to keep your word and keep them unharmed."

"I can't believe you're even allowing me to talk to you. I just killed your dad with no hesitation. And you're asking for my help? You know what your problem is, Chase? Your problem is you can't _let go_ of your feelings, _that's _what's wrong with you."

"That's why I'm saying I'll have nothing more to do with you after it, because as much as it'll _tear me apart_…I can't keep holding onto the fact I love you. Jane…if my mom dies in hospital from illness…and my aunt and uncle are blown up…I'll have _nothing_. No one. How would you feel if you lost everything? If you lost the one person you have left? Your dad."

That comment teared a wound into my heart.

Sometimes I wanted to strangle Chase to death. I was just getting into the swing of not letting him break me, and then he goes and makes me feel again. It seemed he was the only person in the world capable. I thought when he shot someone that I had won. I thought I'd succeeded in creating that madness in Chase but…he seemed to be an unbreakable person.

I didn't want to believe that, because even the White Knight Harvey Dent had been broken.

But my mind said, _Listen to Chase. You won't ever have to help him __**again**__. If you help him, you're free to kill and murder and torture to your heart's content. He'll be out of your life. You're smart, Princess Jane, you'll think of a way round it._

Reluctantly, I answered, softly, "Okay, Chase. I'll do it."

Chase's mouth gaped open. I saw a tear roll down his cheek.

"Really? Will you?"

I yanked him forward by his collar.

"But listen here, pussy," I hissed, "this is the last time I _ever_ help you, and _don't _try and beg for my ass to come back to you _ever_ again. I'm only doing this because I made you a promise that when I killed Bradley, I wouldn't harm anymore of your family. I killed your dad, yeah, but…so what? You won't miss him, Chase. Trust me. _Stop _trying to _break _me, you hear?"

"It's so crazy to think what you _have _to be is a heartless person. A murderer."

"_Don't_ question it."

I tenderly released Chase. Our eyes met for two wonderful seconds, but a gunshot in my head made me flinch away. I couldn't look at him.

"You're doing the right thing," Chase said, softly.

"No. I'm doing what's fair. But this is the last time."

"I know."

"I could kill you right now, you know. I could _really _kill you." I paused as I managed to look at him again. I sighed deeply, and could feel my head crashing with all sorts of insults, telling me I was weak because I was helping him yet again. I had to let him go. I wanted to believe love didn't exist anymore. I glanced down at the dead bodies around me, and traced my eyes back up to Chase. "I think I have a solution," I said.

"I can't believe…"

"What?"

"I can't believe you're…you know…"

"I can't believe it either. But this is it. After this, I'm destroying my weakness, before it's too late, because if my weakness takes over me, a.k.a. you, I'll die a very horrible death."

I scowled up at him.

"Thank you, I…I'm so grateful."

"You've suddenly changed your tune."

"I'm such an idiot for doing this."

"Me too."

"Love sucks."

"Yeah. Yeah it does."

His hand was still on my chin. He lifted it up again, forcing me to look into his eyes.

I stood before him, as Shaylee Napier, with face paint on, and allowed him to lean forward and give me a deep, passionate kiss. The old me came flooding back, and I felt like nothing could ever hurt me again. I felt like I was in Wonderland, and them Cheshire Cat was beaming down at us both. It was that wonderful feeling I once adored, that magical surge of butterflies like I was protected.

When we came out of the kiss, I grunted and quickly flinched away from him, as I realised I'd just been weakened once again.

"Why…why did I just _do_ that?" Chase groaned, shaking his head into his hands again.

"I don't know, but don't ever do it again," I said.


	23. Several Bad Days

_**This was a difficult chapter to write, because I have to keep the Joker's dialogue effective, and keep it so it would be things that actually The Joker would say. I try to envision him saying these lines.**_

_**The result? Well...tell me what you think. Constructive criticism on this would be appreciated if it could be improved, but I do hope you enjoy it.**_

* * *

**Chapter 22 - Several Bad Days**

The plan was simple.

Well, it sounded so simple when I first established it.

The idea was, to get two of the dead bodies hauled down the stairs, let Darrell and Hannah somehow escape, and then replace their bodies with the two corpses. Surely then they would blend in with the tiresome, sweat-ridden hostages and their gap would be filled in masterfully.

I warned Chase the only part I was helping him with was getting the bodies dragged down the stairs, and then he would continue with the corny parts. I couldn't stand witnessing heartfelt family reunions anymore. I would make a river of puke run through the building.

I despised Mikey, as you probably guessed, so we chose him to be taken down, along with the man Chase had shot dead. I was surprised to see Chase showing not one ounce of tiredness as we pulled the dead bodies to the first floor, bringing them down effortlessly like a builder. I knew his expression of heartbreak all too familiarly, and it lit up as we made our journey. It became even brighter when we reached the bottom. It was now exactly ten minutes to eleven at night.

Zachary attempted to look threatening when we arrived, darting the gun at us both.

"What are you _doing_?" he demanded.

"Chill, Zac," I huffed, cautiously following Chase through the tanks of gasoline and over to the hostages, tied around in circles on a certain object. "Just stay out of it."

Chase dashed over to Darrell and Hannah straight away, who were at the far end, tied behind a large table. I was close behind him, squinting my observing eyes as I did. I growled quietly when I saw him drop to the body and collapse heavily to his knees. He was facing away to my left by now, and I saw his hands reach out and cling onto something. I immediately knew it was Hannah's face, which I could barely see, hidden behind the table. He gingerly ripped off her gag, and she gasped for a huge amount of the salty air, rather dramatically, I thought. Chase tripped over his own hand, in his flustered state, and I saw him disappear behind the table, as he tore of Darrell's gag next.

"Don't worry, I'm getting you out of here," Chase insisted, his voice bleeding with determination. He threw the gags over his shoulder. "The Joker won't get away with killing you. I'm not letting it happen, not after what happened to Bradley." I had now joined them, and I delicately placed Mikey's rotting corpse next to the other. I couldn't help but snigger as I watched Chase's dreadful attempt to try and untie them, frantically. "Dammit!" he grunted.

"Chase, no!" Hannah suddenly cried. "You can't! The Joker will kill you! I've lost my son, I may be losing my sister, I'm not losing my nephew, too, to some psychopathic monster!"

"My mom's gonna be alright," Chase panted. "And he won't find out, I have something under my belt."

I exploded into wild laughter.

"Who's that?!" Darrell asked.

"Just ignore it," Chase said, still trying to untie them. "God damn, I can't undo these things!"

"Chase, you'll never be able to untie us, are you crazy?!" Darrell hissed.

"I'm...I'm not letting you get killed!" Chase groaned.

I exhaled a huge impatient sigh, and dug into my skirt pocket.

"Chase, just use this," I said, revealing a knife Joker had given me. "It'll make it easier for you."

The blade gleamed as I removed the black fabric case. Chase unsafely snatched it off me, giving me an unappreciative scowl and began to try and snap off his aunt and uncle's restraining tapes.

As he argued with them and attempted to be a Batman-like hero, saving their lives, I paced over to Zachary, who was marching around the room, looking down upon all the hostages, like a patrolling army officer. He stared at me as I joined him.

It felt like my fingers were dripping with blood, as I had no weapon to keep me company. It made my fingers ache with demented desire, I had to rub them consistently while I was unarmed.

"What's he doing, then?" Zachary asked, impatiently.

"Nothing, just ignore him, okay?!" I snapped.

"Alright, chill, fucking hell," he grumbled.

"Have you seen any signs of Harley Quinn?" I asked.

"No, not yet," he replied.

"Well, she better hurry. It'll be eleven soon, and God help us if we're not outside in time for the experiment."

"I'm still pretty confused about it, to be honest."

"What's not to get?"

"Well, firstly, didn't the boss say he was only going to give Commissioner Gordon one detonator?"

"Yes, Zachary. That's _very _clever," I said, in a patronising sarcastic voice.

"But…shouldn't it be two detonators? One for this floor and one for the floor above?"

"Zachary, the detonator can have two buttons, you know."

"Maybe, but…I don't know…it seems like there's a demented twist to this. I don't know, I feel something bad is going to happen."

I laughed, mockingly into his face.

"That's the fucking understatement of the century!" I cackled.

"Still…it just feels like the plan doesn't make sense," Zachary said. "You know…I often wondered how The Joker became who he is."

"Due to, uh…several bad days, I guess," I replied. "Countless bad days."

"Well, yeah, obviously."

"Not every day could have been bad, though."

"There mustn't have been many."

"Maybe there _was_. _Yo__u _wouldn't know, would you? Because you're a twat. Now shut up, and do the world a favour, go and get Harley's perfect ass down here!"

"You're not the boss of me."

"Ooh, scared, are we, Zachary?"

"Scared of you? Give me a break."

"I _am _giving you a break, by letting you go upstairs and getting Harley! Now _go_!"

Zachary reluctantly made his way to the stairs. I'd made him leave the room so Chase could get them out quickly. Once Zac was out of sight, I glanced over my shoulder, to see Chase was holding onto Hannah's hand, and Darrell was just rising to his feet. Chase and I finally met eye to eye, and he gave me a desperate look. I quickly looked around me, to find some sort of exit door.

"Where do we go now?" Chase cried, rushing over to me, with Hannah and Darrell behind him, hand in hand.

"Follow me, I'll find somewhere," I said.

"What the _hell _is going on?!" Hannah wanted to know.

"Yeah, why is _this _girl helping us? The girl who murdered our son!" Darrell screamed.

"Shut up, will you?!" I hissed. "If The Joker hears you, he'll have your heads. Now, shut up. I'm here to help you."

"I'm not trusting _you _on my _life_!" Hannah wailed.

"Yes, if I could help it, I would love to see your head rolled for what you did!" Darrell added, angrily.

I stifled into nasty snickers, before laughing wildly.

"I'd love to even see you try!" I laughed, still trying to look around the room for a door.

"Chase, get me away from her!" Hannah whimpered.

"Jane, leave it, _I'll _find a door to get them out of here," Chase said, surprisingly calm.

I stopped in my tracks. I peered up at the clock that now read exactly ten minutes to 11pm.

"Go ahead," I said, blankly.

"I _hate you_!" Hannah screamed, as Chase and Darrell lead her away. "What you did to my _son_! My little boy! You're a sick, demented, murdering _monster_!"

"Charming," I laughed.

"There's an emergency exit door here," Darrell then said, pointing underneath the large staircase.

"Quick, go, and stay out of sight," Chase said, softly.

"_No_! Let me _kill her_!" Hannah screamed, her cheeks sticky with tears.

"She's not worth it, honey, she's letting us go, let's get up of here," Darrell, said, grabbing her hand and rushing underneath the staircase.

They were soon out of my sight for good.

Chase panted hard, before rubbing his face.

"Chase!" I hissed at him. He looked up. "Hurry up and get Mikey and that other guy in their places!"

He ran over without saying a word, and when I saw him struggling, I dashed over to his side and helped him, only because we had no time to waste. I exhaled a huge sigh of relief when we both managed to fit them into place.

Once that hard work was done, right on cue, Harley came skipping down the stairs, with a bazooka dangling in her arm, followed by Zachary, who was falling down the stairs in exhaustion.

"Gonna be explosive tonight, ain't it, Pricey?!" she chirruped, as she reached the ground floor. "That pathetic little family are up there, why, they don't know what they're _in for_!"

"I think they _do_, Harley," I sniggered, joining her, with Chase behind me.

"There's only five minutes!" she shrieked. "We better hurry!"

"Wait!" Chase suddenly grabbed my arm, and I instantly flinched away in anger.

"What?!" I spat.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, his eyes widening so they were the same size as a whale's mouth.

"Hear what?" Zachary said.

We all kept silent.

And all jumped when we heard an audible swoosh above our heads.

"Come out, ya _coward_!" Harley screeched, lifting her bazooka up to the ceiling.

"Hang on a minute Harley," I said. "You have to explore before you make a move, you know. Zachary, give me your gun."

This time, he didn't have to be told twice. He handed me his gun, and Harley and I, like _we _were the actual men of the group, took control and started searching the room for the cause of the noise, dodging past the hostages beneath us, and sweeping past the barrels of gasoline as well.

Another loud swoosh appeared.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the figure, landing on top of the staircase. He was knelt on one knee, watching us like a sainted figure. A cape was drooped down to be feet. He was wearing an all-too familiar mask, covering his face completely.

It wasn't long before Harley spotted him too, and we both gasped simultaneously upon seeing him.

"Batman!" Harley squealed, excitedly.

"Woah," Chase exclaimed, behind me.

"How the hell did you get in here?!" I yelled, gobsmacked.

"He does it all the time," Harley said. "No wonder Mister J _loves _you, Batsy! You're so mysterious! Shame we have to be against you, though, ain't it?"

"Have you come to turn yourself in, Batman?" I interrogated, loudly, as he now started sauntering down the stairs. "Because if you are, I'd _gladly _go and get The Joker for you!"

"I've come to find out the truth behind this twisted ordeal," Batman growled.

Harley and I snickered, childishly, at his stupid voice.

"There's nothing to find out!" I laughed. "Hasn't your good friend the commissioner told you anything yet?!"

"He told me everything," Batman said. He was now up in Harley's face, and she frowned, grumpily at him. "And you two women don't deserve to be caught up in his plans."

"My puddin' doesn't _plan_, I'll have you know!" Harley cried, defensively. "He's a very clever man!"

"Why can't you stay away from him, Quinn?" Batman inquired.

"Because he's my baby!" she sighed, lovingly. "Every man needs a woman to take care of 'em. Even a man like Mister J."

Batman then looked at me, who was pointing the gun in his direction.

"And you, Price," he continued, "why do _you _think it's wise to help him?"

"None of _your _business, Bats," I snarled. "I just follow his orders because I agree with what he does."

"You have all been brainwashed by this lunatic and we need to help you!"

"I don't need help!" I retorted. "And I'm not brainwashed, thank you very much."

"Batman, it's only a few minutes until your cop friend arrives," Harley stated. "What have you come to _us _for, huh?"

"To stop you," he answered.

"To stop _us_?" Harley sniggered. "It's not _us _you should be worrying about! It's The Joker, right outside that door!" All of a sudden, Batman clutched onto Harley's bazooka and skilfully threw it behind his shoulder, just missing a hostage's head. "_Hey_!" she shrieked. "I _need _that!"

Harley lunged an extremely high kick into his face, making him topple over. Harley screamed with mocking laughter, making myself and Zachary laugh along with her.

I was taken aback at her sudden, but impressive fighting skills, as very soon, she and Batman were in a whirlwind of ferocious combat. She kicked his ass effortlessly, making it look easy. I saw Chase scuttle off to one side, while Zachary and I watched, intensely. Harley even had Batman on the floor, at one point, choking him hard, but Batman soon pushed her over onto her back again.

I waited anxiously for The Joker to burst through the door at any given moment.

So much so, in fact, that I started sprinting over to the door.

"Jane, no!" Zachary called.

It was too late. I made yet another mistake.

While trying to hurdle past Harley and Batman savagely beating each other, Harley accidentally bulleted an almighty punch to my head as I ran past, while she went to hit Batman in the face, as Batman held her by her other wrist.

You wouldn't think a punch for Harley Quinn would be that effective, but let me tell you, it was.

Her accidental blow to my head made me stumble to the floor, apparently just missing a gasoline tank, and not being able to get up.

Batman having a mask made a hell of a difference. The stupid cunt was ridiculously well-protected. If he didn't have that, Harley would have knocked him out in minutes flat.

Damn it, Harley.

It was such a brutal slam to my head (and my landing, ramming my head onto the durable tile floor made it worse), that I didn't even get to see what happened during Gordon's experiment. I didn't even get to see the outcome of what I had been improving and working for, for an entire week.

I could have killed Harley for that. I would have loved to have sliced her throat open and laugh, just for doing that to me. I didn't care if was an accident or not.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do that when I finally recovered from being knocked out, because she wasn't there.

In fact, nobody was there. I shouldn't have been surprised. Every time I'm knocked out, or put to sleep, I wake up alone. It was ironic, but it says a lot just about people.

My eyelashes vibrated open, to reveal what at first seemed to be a grand ballroom when my vision cleared. However, I soon realised or was far from that, and was in fact a vast bar area, which was mostly wooden, but was lit in a heavenly style, and had that tile floor I had whacked my head on. I exhaled deeply, and then tried to move sharply from the wall I was leaning against, but then my head smashed against the wall in restraint.

"Huh?" I gasped, frantically looking around.

It was then I noticed that my wrists were jammed beside me, with that super strong tape we'd used for the hostages. I wriggled just as uselessly as a hostage, but not in fear, but in confusion.

I stopped, stiffly, when I heard the door on my left slam. A figure entered the room, but I knew after a second who it was by the purple, flowing coat and a silhouette of a knife clasped in his hand. Sure enough, his hunched shoulder spun around and soon The Joker was sauntering towards my face, with that kill glistening in _both _his eyes. I didn't dare speak.

My heart sunk and then started racing at a ridiculously high speed. A million voices were sneering, calling me the worst insults you could ever imagine.

I didn't know why I was tied up, or how I got there, or what had happened while I had been knocked out, but I knew for sure that it was definitely not a good sign.

I was helplessly straddled against the wall, now in the presence of my own psychopathic father.

I hate suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. It gnaws upon your brain, creating all sorts of terrible things into your mind, so suddenly, it almost makes you leap out of your own skin in fright.

It didn't hold back from kicking off at that moment, as I saw The Joker approach me, holding onto a knife handle, with the blade obviously tucked inside. It was like a weapon had to be glued onto his hand, otherwise he wasn't himself.

This was it. I'd blown it. I'd made too many mistakes and he'd found out. This was surely end of my life now.

"Well, if it isn't my own girl in such _desperate _help," The Joker snarled.

"What…what happened?" I asked. "Where are we?"

"_There _ya go again with your questions, my girl," he sniggered. "Ya see, this is _why_…women…shouldn't be in _charge_."

"In charge?"

"For example, I left my so-called trustworthy Harley Quinn in charge of looking after that stupid little family, an' what does she go and do instead of concentrating on 'em? She goes and tries to be the madwoman she _thinks_ she is, all that prancing around like a crazy, acrobatic harlequin."

"She _is _crazy."

"Ah-da-da-da-da…shh." The blade popped out of the handle on cue, but I didn't even flinch at the sight. Joker raised the knife to my face, but I kept my eyes solely on him, battling to not show weakness. I'd shown enough of that. I couldn't do it again. A knife to my face wasn't intimidating to me anymore, anyway. I was used to it, especially by The Joker. "I let you and Harley join my little family of thugs…" The Joker continued, in a murkily calm voice. "And the _whole _time the guys have been sayin' to me, 'Why you hiring women, boss?' 'Women are no sort of criminals, J.' Well, _I _didn't wanna believe that, sweet pea, ya know why? 'Cos I _knew _that you girls had potential. Until…tonight."

I scrunched my eyes in agony when I felt him jab the knife ever so carefully into my cheek.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about…." I said, sharply.

"You _don't_, huh?" he hissed.

"No…I…all of us, I mean, we were keeping everything under control, Chase and I were on our way out to you at ten minutes to eleven, and Harley joined us and Zac on the first floor with the citizen hostages, and then Batman–"

"The Batman appeared out of nowhere, did he?"

"Well…yeah."

"And if it weren't for you thinkin'…uh…that you oughta _kill_ all of the other members of our gang, then you _could've _fought 'im off successfully with their help, but…_no_…it were only you, Harley, lover boy and Zachary taking him on in his theatrical bat suit…"

"I saw Harley beating the shit out of him! I helped Harley! Chase and Zac did _nothing_."

"_Until_…boom…you got knocked out."

"By Harley."

"You weren't _focused_ then, were you, princess?"

"Of _course _I was!"

"I, uh…I don't think you were."

"You _know _I would have been! What are you talking about?!"

I was forced to inhale a skidded breath when I was suddenly backhanded by his gloved fist. I panted hard, squinting down at the floor, and gasped quietly when I felt something trickle down the side of my head. I shuddered as that coldness triggered down my spine. The Joker aggressively made me look at him with his hands, keeping the knife firmly in his hand next to my face. I still was completely puzzled, but I couldn't help feel that embarrassing grip of fear grasp onto my heart.

"You little _cunt_," The Joker growled. I was gobsmacked at such language coming from his usually sophisticated tongue. "You think you could outwit me _so_ easily. Huh? Think you can talk in _that_ way to a man like me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I hissed, even though I was starting to feel I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I don't blame you for the Batman's sudden arrival," he went on, in that callous, husky voice, sounding like dad, which just made it more heart-breaking. "However, you think I wouldn't grasp what you were _really _getting up to?!"

"What…what do you mean?!" I stammered. "I just _told_ you what Chase and I were doing…we were about to make our way out with Harley and Zac and then the Batman showed up on the first floor with the hostages, it was obviously planned by Gordon for him to show up–"

"And of course _I_ had to step in when I heard such a pathetic commotion inside," he interrupted, furiously. "And there I saw you, passed out, faced down, on the floor, with this…" The knife made its journey up to my forehead where he poked it hard, making me wince with unexpected sudden pain. "This _bruise _on your head. That must've _really_ messed your poor little mind, hmm? The Batman had hold of Harley when I came in…and gave me a choice when I arrived on the scene. It was either she was taken back to Arkham or I give up this little experiment. Such a _foolish _statement to make. What did I say I always am first, girl?"

"Uh…a…uh…" I stuttered.

"Come _on_…come on, answer!" he snapped.

"You're…uh…you're a chaos creator first," I answered.

"I prefer the term 'agent of chaos', personally, but uh…I'll accept that." He licked his lips, still prodding the bruise on my forehead. "But in the meantime, I agreed with dear old Batsy, and he dragged Harley outside. While _that _was happening, an' Harley was being taken away, you know what I did? I sent your pleasant little Prince Charming to escape through uh…a tiny little emergency door underneath the stair case, which for some reason, was gaping open…_ever _so slightly. I gave him the choice to be smart and make his way to Arkham and then try an' get her out, because he obviously has _balls _to help ya kill all of our _family_. So, uh…he's off on a wild goose chase, now, sweetie, an' I gave 'im directions to Arkham. So…I made my way back out, where Gordon had now arrived on the scene, precisely on time, and some more cops took the little harlequin to Arkham, while Delancey was hiding, ready to follow 'em. She kicked 'em right in the face, but _still _no one could have a face as damaged as _hers_!" He exploded into deafening cold laughter, and then licked his lips several times. I listened very closely. "Un-fortunate-ly…one of the cops shot poor Zachary, and then, uh…all I had was you, but you were still knocked out, and…and you wouldn't wake _up_! Then the Batman collects you from inside, _delaying _my experiment…because…according to him…you deserve to be _safe_…huh…an' he carries you to _this _building down the road from 249, just like a little lazy teenager, like you are–"

"You think I'm _lazy_?!" I interrupted, angrily, without thinking.

"Ah-ah…" He calmly dug the knife underneath my chin, forcing me to rest it on there. "But it was then…I noticed somethin', pretty face. I made my way back inside an' watched through the window while you were being taken down the road, to make sure he wouldn't do any funny business an' kill you or something…and as I watched Batman carry you outta the place…I looked around at all the hostages at my mercy, an' I noticed…two of the forty-six we had…that were behind a table…were rotting corpses…tied up in their place. Not only _that_, but…they were Mikey…and our new guy Benny boy. Now, I _know_ you, Princess Jane. I expect, uh…_you _to know how they got there. I _know _you. You killed 'em, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. Well…_I _killed Mikey….and Chase killed that…that Benny boy…"

"Why?"

"Uh…because we just _did_. Chase just proving he's got balls, like you saw that he does–"

"Ya know, I'm beginning to believe that's simply _not _the case…_Shaylee_."

"Don't call me that!"

"Ooh-hoo-hoo, _now _someone's getting all defensive! You're okay when _Chase _calls ya that though, huh?! I betcha do!"

"I ask him to shut up if he calls me that!"

"But you secretly like it."

"No, I don't."

He smirked, craftily, and ran his tongue through his scars, letting out shrill, high-pitched giggle.

"It seems to me…" he continued, "that you've forgotten something I told you many moons ago."

"If you're going to talk about me having a weakness–"

"Ah, so you _do _remember, then?!"

"Chase is _not _my weakness. _Men _are not my weakness. I don't have a weakness. Not anymore. You even said that I, uh…that I'm a smart girl who can defend for myself."

"Funny, because right now, I just see a petulant little girl before me, she almost seems a little _frightened_."

"Frightened? Of you?"

The Joker's eyebrows lifted, as I received another agonising backhand, so forceful that the tape securing my wrists tore ever so slightly.

"What _are _you scared of then, Princess Jane?" he asked, in a disturbingly calm voice, putting the knife underneath my chin again to make me look at him.

I inhaled sharply to relieve the pain that had triggered my head massively.

"I'm not scared of anything," I replied. "Why should I be? I've always had to fight things all my life, and _nothing's_ scared me into backing down. So why should I be scared of anything? Not _everyone _in the world has a phobia, you know, Joker. I've watched loads of people die at my feet. I've seen so many people that have proved they are the weaker party. And…and you think it don't empower me?"

"I know it does, beautiful. I know you, uh…_enjoy _it, but, yet…a night ago I said to you…you have that once little chance to show you're capable of breaking an incorruptible mind."

"You didn't exactly say _that_."

"If you don't shut your mouth I won't even give you much longer." I nibbled on my tongue inside my mouth, continuing to stare at his blank face with my own. "Don't talk like that girl you once were…because you're _not _her. You're a corrupted soul, made to believe in anarchy and chaos since you were very young. Now, you may not have realised that was the case when you were growing up, you may not have even understood it, but it was being explained to you by your father the _whole_ time. He didn't want you to have the weak childhood _he_ had. He just wanted…uh…okay, _I _just wanted my little girl to be strong and know she had a father who was, uh…kind of a personal trainer for her. I didn't want her to panic through her crime life. I _knew _you looked up to your old man. And you…you think you know everything about me, but you _don't_." I could feel my heart ripping to shreds as his voice was now dripping with a mixture of hurt and hatred. "You don't even know _half _about me," he went on. "You have no idea, because you haven't been that unstoppable presence in my _whole_ life. A good majority, but not the whole of it-ah…However, _I_…have been the one true presence in _your _life. I know every little detail about you. That's the _big _danger of parents, you see. They know everything about their child, and that means _I_ know…you're only a princess of anarchy when you're not around the person that can take the wheel of your screaming mind. I'm not that person, but I know who _is_. You really think you could trick me, Jane, huh? I'm the biggest trickster around, I can smell manipulation from ten thousand miles. _You're_ a trickster. You take after your old man."

"I know I take after you-uh…him."

"Yeah?" He nodded vigorously, and took several wet breaths. "When have I…ever…_helped _anyone, then, Princess Jane? Because if you're _so much _like me, then you wouldn't help _anyone_, would ya? So, tell me. When have I ever helped anyone?"

"You've helped me."

"Besides helping _you_ realise chaos."

"Well…no…then. Unless you count helping the citizens see–"

"Exactly. You gotta be the youngest anarchist the world has ever known."

"Yeah…although…I haven't really worked well with the other criminals because I've just killed them all because they pushed me _too far_."

"There you go again. Doubting yourself."

"I'm not."

The room silenced for a few horrid moments. I still felt my face stinging with the blood that had been running down it. Inside, my mind was continuing with what seemed to be a hundred year war, and it was rattling on with so many morbid insults, I could barely hear The Joker's gruff voice interrogating me. I was still completely puzzled as to why I was taped up to a wall. I wanted to know what had happened at 249, the event that we had been leading up to from the start.

Then, Joker stated, "I don't believe, uh…I ever taught you magic."

"Wh-what?" I spat.

"I range from, uh…disappearing, to…illusions…" he explained, smiling, making his Glasgow smile extend. "I was pretty good at all that stuff, back in the day…"

"Really?" I was dumbfounded.

"Would I _lie_ to you?!" he demanded.

"No," I mumbled.

"You helped to create me…you created my playing cards. You wanna know…why it is The Joker card…that I use?"

"Because it's unique?"

"Not just that. That card…it don't represent anything like the other cards. It's the only one that represents me. It's just a unique card, that…that is put into the deck to mess up the order. Mess…up the _order_. It just appears out of the blue, and it's a card no one uses and nobody tries to take on because they see no reason to. There's no reason to take _me _on because…well!" He laughed, loudly. "I think you can see why, huh, doll face?!"

"Of course," I chuckled.

"Don't laugh," he snapped.

"J-Joker…I…I don't understand what's happening here," I finally piped up. "Why are you telling me all this? Why am I taped up here, and what happened with Gordon and–?"

"You're right. I don't know _why _I'm wasting my time talkin' to you about that, when I have much more important things to ask about. I talk a lot, you know that, but, uh…this time I _thought _I was just gonna cut to the chase…but _no_, there's just somethin' about you…that makes me have to _explain _and _explain_ all the time. If I wanna, explain somethin', I _always _want it to be short an' sweet."

"I just wanna know…"

"The reason I bring up magic, _sweetheart_, is because those two corpses just sort of…appeared…like _magic_. That's why I said I don't believe I ever taught you magic, because they just appeared from the dark bewilderness, didn't they, hmm? Replacing two hostages that were there before them. They disappeared. They were gone."

"And that's…bad?"

"It's terrible."

"Why?"

"Because I have a funny feeling…that one of you…let two prisoners escape and replaced them with the deceased Mikey and Benny and being foolish enough to think I wouldn't notice. So…who did it?"

"I don't know," I said, stupidly.

"Oh you _do _know. I've just spent a good five minutes…which I _shouldn't _do, ya know…elaborating on how I know every part of you. Don't think you can outsmart a guy like me. You see, even a cold-hearted man like me would _never _in his right _mind _betray his family, and by _that_…I mean…my family of criminals. Not my _real_ family. You're the only one of that I have left. I let you and Chase join my _family_! I tried to be the _best_…father figure to you both I could possibly be. Let me tell ya…I'll be _insulted _if one of you has done that. Especially you. You're my daughter. You're blood. I don't want that blood to spill all over this floor tonight, because it will, if I get mad. And you _know _what I'm like when I'm _mad_!" He yelled so loudly, the word 'mad' echoed throughout the room, creating a haunting atmosphere around us. Joker then raised his eyebrows again, and his voice returned to his soft tone. "So," he said, "you better tell me, angel."

"Tell you what?" I asked, still totally confused.

"Tell me why you let two hostages escape, because I know _one _of my idiot apes did it. Who _else _could it have been?"

"The Batman?"

"Don't insult my intelligence, my girl. The Batman arrived later, when the dead bodies were already there, because I was there when I saw it."

I knew _that _was definitely I lie, an excuse to keep the Batman out of it.

I remained silent for a few moments, filled with the sound of what was left of my cold heart clattering onto the floor below me.

There was no escaping his wrath anymore. I had to tell him the truth.

I was about to get killed either way, but if I lied, the death would be more painful.

But then again, nothing could be more painful than my own father, the man, who despite being totally insane, I looked up to and loved more than any other human being in the world, murdering me with no empathy, in freezing cold blood that he would surely use to write a message on the walls when I lay there dying.

That's all my schizophrenic-bipolar mind could tell me at that moment. All the negative and tragic remedies filling up my entire soul. However, it was still preparing me to fight, like it had been for nearly ten years, telling me to be cocky and have an attitude about it, because that's what _Jane _is like.

But Shaylee was arguing…no. He _wouldn't _murder me. He wouldn't do that.

_That's what he'd said he'd do_, they hissed. _He said he would kill you if you betrayed him, and you have. You've __**betrayed **__him. You're own father! _

"They…they were Chase's family…" I said, quietly.

"Hmm? I'm _sorry_?" he said, loudly. "Speak up!"

"Look, they were members of Chase's family and I made a promise they wouldn't get hurt!"

"An' you though I'm so unintelligent I wouldn't notice two hostages had gone missing, huh?"

"N-No…"

He suddenly cackled psychotically.

"Let's refresh your mind, shall we, my princess?!" he shouted.

The Joker sliced the tape around my wrists until they fell to the floor, and before I could move, he grabbed the back of my head and threw me to the ground, forcing me to roll away from him. I went to sit up but I was met with an excruciating kick to my stomach, and another. I grunted in pain, bending over, and clutching onto my stomach. I glanced up and saw The Joker circling me, like I was his defenceless prey.

"You think a few kicks is gonna finish me off?" I questioned.

"Of course not," he snapped back.

I felt my heart ripping into too many shreds that the blood running through my veins appeared to freeze, and then distortedly pump again. It was almost like I was dying right there and then because my heart was breaking.

"If you're going to kill me, then…just do it," I whispered. "Just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

He stopped directly in front of me, and my neck ached looking up at his great height.

"You…you said you were going to kill me…" I murmured.

"I only said I'll kill you if you failed me," he stated, twirling the knife in his fingers.

I stared at him in complete shock. "I…I know…"

Before I could say any more, another harsh kick was plummeted into my ribs, and I collapsed again.

"Didn't Harley teach you any acrobatic martial arts?!" The Joker mocked.

"No…" I groaned, struggling to my knees.

"Shame," he sighed.

"I just want to know!" I yelled.

"Know what?!"

"Know what happened tonight!"

"You don't need to know the outcome of my experiment _just_ yet. At this moment in time, let's be more concerned about what _you've _done."

"But…but wouldn't have the cops taken you away after everything happened? How did you get away?"

He launched himself at me and yanked me upwards by my top. I was almost being dangled in the air, but the tip of my toes were still meeting the floor. The knife was flopped beside him, and Joker held me in his grip with one strong hand.

"I don't matter what happened," The Joker said, licking his scars. "What matters is, right now–"

"I disobeyed you."

"You _disobeyed_ me?"

I couldn't believe my luck at The Joker's confused tone of voice. I started stuttering like an idiot, my heart pumping horrified blood through my throbbing veins.

"I…I…" I muttered.

"Oh no, PJ," he chuckled. "I think you disobeyed _yourself_, but, uh…it's nothing new, is it?"

"So…so you're _not_ going to kill me?"

"Killing my own flesh and blood? That's strange. Normally I kill and _stab _and _roast _flesh and blood totally _unrelated _to my own! But having _your_ blood spill on this floor, and, uh…for _me_ to be the cause of that? It's like I'd be killing _myself_. It's thanks you I'm the man I am. It's thanks to _me_, _you _are the girl _you _are. We…complete…each other. You're just like what the Batman is to me. I can't kill you…because…you're just handy to have around. You're the yin to my yang…and you remember what happened the _last _time your blood was spilled because of me? I was weakened and broken immediately. My mind couldn't take it anymore, which is _terrible _for a mental patient like me. It just took…one…bad…_day_…and everything changed. My sanity was broken because of you. _Your_ sanity is breaking because of _me_. We'd be _nothing_…without each other. Society call us insane…saying we can't feel anything. We wouldn't be the way that we are if it weren't for the, uh…the _emotions_…we had for one each other. We found happiness in doing something the rest of the world find atrocious. I can't waste that fact. At this moment in time, this City is becoming mine…_ours_…I can't be weak and a winey little baby, because my mind makes me who I am. It's what makes _you _be Princess Jane. I _did_ say I would kill you if you failed me…_just _like I said I would _kill _the Batman because he's incorruptible…plus…I just said it to please the sad little crime bosses of Gotham City. Anyway, the Batman was just too much fun to kill. I can't be me without the Batman, just like _you _can't be _you_ without _me_. Your dear old dad."

"Well…if that's the case…and if that's what you've thought all along–"

"It's not-ah…in the beginning, I thought you'd be handy for a few days and that would be it, I could getcha out of the way, but now I've seen you come _all _this way from being such a little nervous wreck about killing…I _know_…you could do _all _these things yourself, as your mind reminds you more and more of that one bad day increasingly. Because let's face it, doll…if it weren't for that one bad day, you wouldn't have had to experience the lunacy going on in your poor little mind right now. Hmm? I've had _several_ bad days…but that one was the trigger. I stopped checking for monsters under my bed when I realised…they had crawled inside of my skin."

I almost wanted to cry at my luck. I could not believe what I was hearing. These were the words of a psychopath, an individual who is supposed to lack remorse or empathy, but then again, he was absolutely crazy, but highly intelligent. It was a dangerous mix, but he knew exactly what he was saying, even if I didn't fully understand. What he was saying seemed absurd, and U bet it seems so silly to any average person, like you, reading this, but it also makes sense. I kind of thought it would only make sense to me, and no one else. Maybe people like The Joker _can_ feel emotions, but when they do, they become obsessive and that obsessive emotion lingers on in their minds for eternity. Maybe that's why I still clung onto Chase.

"Then…then why…why have you threatened to kill me if I failed you the whole time?" I asked, quietly.

"Quite simple, it just made you do it. I know you would if I didn't threaten nevertheless, but uh…you need motivation to support anarchy. I meant it at first, an' don't you think I'm lying about that…but recently…I've realised…you're just like the Batman…you an' I…are destined–"

"To do crime together?"

"N'awh, so you _do_ understand, huh?"

"I understand you, but…what I _don't_ understand is…is…"

"What don't you understand?"

"You say I'm destined to help you forever…how can you think that, if Chase corrupts me? I hate the fact he does, but at the same time…I kinda...I don't know, it's…it's horrible."

"Uh…that's a very good point, sweetheart, but we'll get back to that. _I'm_ sorting that little problem out. Don't you worry, it won't continue anymore. You'll be free."

"Wha…what?"

"You won't need to be worried about Delancey anymore…"

"Have…have you…oh my goodness…you've…you've killed him, haven't you?"

"No. I _told_ you, I sent him off to get dearest Harley outta the asylum."

"So…what…?"

"Look what you've done to this City, with _and _without my help. Things have gone according to plan."

"So Gordon _did _kill those people tonight?"

"Well…"

"He _did_?!"

We both cracked that identical smirk as he lifted me to my feet.

"I passed 'im the detonator," The Joker explained, still smirking. "An' I reminded him of everything he stands for in this City. Batman was right by his side, along with some other cops and the mayor, and he wouldn't stop talking about how I'm such a _monster _I twist everything around. I did, in fact, say to Gordon, that he had to come alone, but I wasn't gonna complain about Batman finally showing, or rather, uh…_not _showing his face. Batman, being the schemer and know-it-all he is, makes the claim that I have this experiment twisted to go my way. To create more chaos than anticipated, but as you know, there can never be _enough_."

"Well, you _are_ very manipulative. Where'd you think _I_ get it from?"

"You get a lot of things from me." He paused, as he then started to stalk around the room again, but I didn't dare move, however I followed him with my eyes. "He claimed…that the detonator I had given Gordon…was not in fact connected to the floor of citizens, and Batman thought I was intentionally planning for him, in fact, to blow up his precious little family instead, as the detonator was in fact tied to _their _floor. How ludicrous. I always said, making a choice is the sensible way to live. Gordon and Batman are not human if they don't break their little rules and play along with my clever little mind games. Everyone in the world, sane or not, have to make choices."

"Please tell me the Batman was right," I chuckled.

He shot his head at me as I found myself now beaming up my father like he had candy in his hand. Joker sniggered hysterically under his breath, before kneeling down to my level, and finally giving me the smirk I had been waiting for.

"Once they were…ah, _all_ gone, things could go back normal," he snickered.

"_All _gone?!" I gasped. "So he really _did _blow up his whole family?"

He very delicately stroked my face with the back of his hand, running his fingers over my blood-stained cheek.

"The fireworks never came," he grunted, licking his lips.

"What?" I said, disappointed.

"You see, that building…isn't a big as ya think." He gave me a crafty look. "You _blow up_ one floor, _every_ floor _roasts _into oblivion. You see, everyone's losing their minds every minute…an' they don't realise how unintelligent they _truly_ are." He nodded his head and gave me that sociopathic stare for a few moments, hinting me with his eyes. "No one attempts to question…my intelligence," he added, in his clown voice.

"So…so what happened?" I questioned, still smiling. "Did you confess that you planned to blow everyone up the whole time?"

"I'm no planner," he answered. "I didn't _plan_ for the whole building to blow up, but you see, my little one, people, uh…they take what I say _far _too literally. Too seriously. They don't realise the truth behind what I _really _say. Only smart girls like _you_ understand. I said one button would lead to either floor exploding so beautifully, but, of _course _that whole building was gonna go up in flames, not just _one _floor. If one floor goes, the others go with it. _Obviously_. Duh. It's surely, uh…_impossible _for one floor to stay intact. It would have been like people. Once one is let loose, it destroys the other one, _naturally_. So, if one family member dies, the others die too. Maybe not literally, but…they die inside. It's not _my _fault if they don't realise the truth behind what I say. It's not _my _fault people are dim-witted. Is it?"

I couldn't help but burst out laughing at the sheer cleverness of my father at that moment. Talk about the Master of Manipulation. He even fooled _me_ with that one. Maybe he fooled you, too? Of _course _if one floor blew up, the other would go with it! The floor above wouldn't stay where it was, would it? It would come tumbling down, and therefore, everyone's a winner. I felt really stupid for not realising that the whole time, and it shows just how idiotic and gullible Gordon and Gotham's Police Department are.

"I…I feel _really _stupid now," I laughed.

"I bet you do," Joker said, blankly. He licked his scars in snakelike fashion. "But don't worry, it's not just you."

"Let me guess…the Batman realised the truth while you were reminding Gordon about what he had to do, and then told everyone that no matter what he chose, his family would die anyway because the building would explode nevertheless!"

"Gordon claimed I told him his family and the hostages would be in two separate buildings…I didn't like that, because it's a lie. I don't recall telling him that in the _slightest_."

"So the detonator would set off both floors anyway? That was it was sent to do all along?"

"Mm-hmm, but it wouldn't have mattered if just _one _went off, you see." He leaned in closer, prodding my cheek with his knife-yielded hand. "It was checkmate before my little game had begun."

I saw his eyes gleam red, with darkness and insanity. It made me grin wider.

"You sneaky bastard," I sniggered.

"I thank you," he said, plainly. "All it was, was a little twist. Just a bit of fun. Everything I do has a twist, otherwise it's not any fun, is it? Hmm? I'm not a one-trick pony. I like to experiment. I didn't want this to be _too _similar to my experiment on those wretched boats."

"But…but you said that there were no fireworks," I recalled, my smile fading a little. "So I guess…nobody died."

"_Zachary_ died at my feet," he stated.

"Okay, apart from Zachary being shot, nobody died?"

"It wouldn't have mattered if _I _had been killed right there. It would have been, uh...interesting, anyhow, because…Batman was close to doing it, Princess Jane. Very close."

"He nearly killed you?"

"Once everything was cleverly worked out by the so-called saviour, I thought it was pretty funny, so I laughed, and that was all it took for them to realise their idiocy, he went for me, but I…battle hard, as you know." His eyebrows twitched as he smiled widely and his hands then waggled everywhere, in pure adrenaline-fuelled excitement. "Gordon and the cops saved the bright old day, rescuing everyone's sorry backsides, as the dear of Batman tried to outwit me. I told 'im if he killed me, he'd be leaving an orphan, which he seemed pretty confused about, but anyway, I told 'im, like I did nights ago, uh…if I die in his bare hands, he'll never _ever_ hear the end of it. He would have failed. His reputation _dented_ forever, and rightfully, he'll be thrown in a cell with me, which is where we belong. Together. He didn't like any of that. I managed to get away by bruising his head with my tommy gun, an' what did I do? _I _was the true hero, because I ran away from the scene of rescue, and came here to find my little girl, an' there you were, where Batman had left you, _still_ passed out. I was there, _all _ready to tell you we'd succeeded–"

"How exactly did we succeed?" I interrupted, sadly. "Gordon didn't blow anyone up, he got his family back, which we _know _he could've survived _without_. Who needs family?"

"Gordon's mind was still damaged, just realising the fact he _was_ going to do it, regardless of which button he pressed. He hated the _sight_ of me when he arrived, you should have seen his face. I have to congratulate the Batman. Without his contribution to realising the ghastly truth, Gordon would never have had that hilarious breakdown he had at my feet. This is why, uh…the Batman makes me who I am. He knew what was going on _straight away_. He's like…a big brother to me. When I was-uh…uh…reminding Gordon of his task, I still mentioned it wasn't too late for me to release 'em immediately if Batsy turned himself in, but the selfish little man _still_ refused. Now that's not _my _fault. Hmm. I thought he would put the slowly-mind-beating citizens before himself under that mask. However, despite not a single hostage dying, the little game I made Gordon play…he _lost_. I won the deck." He leaned in close to my smirking lips, and touched my face, giving me that look of pleasure, that would be horrifying to any sane folk, but to me, it was an expression of triumph. "I could taste it, my dear…" he growled, in perilous soft tone. "I could taste the triumph. I felt it…when I returned here."

"You're unbelievable," I said, gently. "But I like that. It's a good thing."

"Why thank you, Princess Jane," he laughed, darkly. "Thank you. So are you."

"_I'm_ unbelievable too?"

"Mm-hmm. Thinking I wouldn't notice you and prince charming's little ordeal." My smile wiped off my face, as he slowly tucked the blade back into its handle, yanked me up to my feet, and glared at me with those predatory pools of nothingness. "Ah, you thought you were in _luck_ 'cos you thought I would just drop the topic, huh?" he taunted. "Why'd you think I tied you up when I got away and came back here?"

"To stop me from running away, of course."

I tried to remain as calm as possible, as I knew The Joker wasn't in for the kill, but I couldn't help but continue to feel my heart racing at the speed of light.

"Oh, no, no, _no_…you don't wanna push your luck getting me angry now, do you, with your smart little answers? I'm in a better mood than usual now I've recalled what's happened, but now…"

"You wouldn't kill me. You would never. I know you wouldn't."

"We've discussed that already. I won't kill you…because it's not right in terms of…uh…_us_. So, _darlin'_…I want you to cleverly explain how you and Delancey Junior managed to let two hostages escape an' replace 'em with two members of our trusted family. Idiotic, but trusted. Tell me what happened. If it's reasonable enough then I won't have to take further action an' we can just start over and go out and have some fun again. Even if we're caught and thrown into Arkham together, we'll still be _home_. So…so whatcha gonna do then, huh? What's it gonna take for you explain yourself rightfully?"

"You wanna know the truth?"

"Too right I want to know the truth, Jane."

The blade snapped out its handle again, but my eyes were fixated on his mesmerising painted features. He started pacing around me again, and I obediently stayed in place.

"Okay." I stood upright as I was slouching. "Nights ago, we made a promise to Chase saying that no more of his family were to be killed…"

"You let his father die."

"I know, but he wasn't one of the people he mentioned anyway."

"_Then_…I guess he didn't care about his father being killed. Wow, that's borderline _heartless_, isn't it?"

"I killed his dad accidentally. Chase was being ganged up by the rest of them when he killed that…Benny…so I just shot them all afterwards without thinking."

"Mm-hmm."

"He noticed that two of the hostages we'd taken were his aunt and uncle, who work at that secretary building we were at, but I didn't know they worked there."

"Me neither."

"He begged and begged me to keep my word and spare them because that's what I promised. I reminded him that, uh…you said it wouldn't be our problem if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, which they were. I wasn't going to help him, because helping him would be ridiculous…"

"However…you still ended up helping him, huh?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I…I don't really know. I didn't _want _to do it. I was close not to, but–"

"You still did."

"Yes, and I shouldn't have. I said it will be the last thing I ever do for him."

"I don't think it will be."

"Yes. It _really _will."

"You're _that _confident, huh?"

"Yes!"

"_I'm_ not."

"I'll show you, he's worth _anything_ to me anymore."

"Hmm."

"But…I always thought you were a man of your word?"

"Oh, I am."

"You said you were going to kill me if I disobeyed you, which…I kinda did, and you just explained over five minutes why you're not going to–"

"Yes, I did indeed. Why? Do you think it's an _unreasonable_ explanation? Hmm? Do you _want _to die?"

"_No_."

"That's the spirit." He licked his lips several times. "_That's _the girl I like to see. So full of life. And like I said, I only said I would if you _failed_ me. You didn't."

"I didn't?"

"Nuh-uh. You only failed _yourself_."

He was now before me, and halted very suddenly. Stroking his blade delicately, his eyes jolted around the room, everywhere, glancing upwards at his voices. They were telling him something. This was not good.

"I…I know I failed myself…." I began.

"Have I ever told you about how I feel about people doubting and failing themselves? Have I?"

"No."

"Ah, well you see, in this universe…if you don't have confidence in yourself…meaning you don't take _risks_, follow your _gut_…it's a failure. Taking the easy option is the worst thing, I've found. Now, I only tell you _all _these things because-uh…I like to think I'm your preacher an' you're still a kid. You still have no idea what the big, grown-up world's like. Following your heart is…_worth-less_. Your heart is only there to keep ya alive. That's it. It's always so soppy and corny and likes to lead you down the road of self-righteousness. So, I like to show my heart how _useless_ it really is, apart from pumping blood around my veins. I always abandon it an' follow my head. It seems to be easier for us men. Women on the other hand tend to listen to their hearts day in day out. _You _don't possess a stereotypical woman's personality, and you know that, right?"

"Of course."

"Then _why_ follow your heart, huh?"

"Chase had control of it, but not anymore."

He then stared at me for a long time. My eyes lingered down to the large knife, dancing in his fingers.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, clinging onto my paint-crumbling face, as it stung until I felt my cheek vibrating the pain off it. I felt more crimson blood drip down the side of my face, until it splattered onto my gloved fingers, which then drooled onto the floor. I looked up to briefly see The Joker and then I received another slap to my face, followed by several sharp kicks rocketing into my side and ribs. I coughed loudly and felt the anger and swirling madness crawl into the very tip of my scalp. I felt like I was going to throw up, feeling the sickness at the back of my throat.

"What's the matter, princess?!" he growled above me, slamming me in my ribs again. "Such a kind and gentle princess that can't take _anything _for fun?!"

I staggered up by my hands, and looked up at him. Although, in reality, the pain was excruciating, Jane wouldn't feel anything, so I attempted not to show it.

"I didn't feel a thing," I chuckled.

He cackled, nastily and bolted another kick into my ribs, so unexpectedly, I groaned in pain, and then groaned again at my weakness.

"Didn't feel _that_, no?" The Joker laughed. "You know how I said you an' the Batman are similar people to me? How you both complete me? Well, uh, the thing is…I've had two fights with him now, an' beating the big man up was fun." He paused, as we glared at each other. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or lash out and yell at him at that moment. "This is your punishment!" he suddenly bellowed, kicking me every time he listed something, like a savage animal, even grunting and snorting like one as he performed my punishment. "For being _doubtful_, _disobedient_ and a literal little whiny _princess_ you really are, to _yourself_! Now look at me! _Look at me_!" Nearly throwing up with spluttering coughs, I staggered onto my hands and pushed myself up to look up at my aggressive father. He itched the blade in between his fingers, and circled around me again. "You understand why you deserve punishment like Gordon's little brat, I presume?" he questioned, kicking me at the back of the neck as he passed me. I nodded, weakly. "_Good_!" he chortled, and kicked me again. I grunted as clawed upon the floor, trying to regain my strength. "Aw, my _baby_…why so serious?" he asked. "You gonna cry? Huh?"

I shook my head, frantically, managed to struggle to my feet again. I faced him, lightly clutching onto my side, wincing at the pain that was etching through my every core, making my legs quake and my fingers tremble, as they gripped onto it. I panted several times, before fixing my eyes on the sociopathic clown before me, and although I loathed feeling the pain he had caused me, I didn't want to aggravate him further. I wasn't that foolish.

I thought hard for a second to somehow get around making what seemed like the worst possible situation I could have been in.

"You…you…have a good kick," I panted.

The Joker remained unreadable, as usual. However, he walked up closer up me then, and lifted my chin up.

"I do hope you didn't get your combat skills from your mother," he said. "That meaning…none at all."

"What…what do you mean?" I groaned at the pain again.

"Shame that clingy Harley Quinn hasn't taught you _anything_."

"She…she taught me about her past…if _that's_ anything."

"That's a _whole _lotta past to choke up. Is that why you haven't picked up any combat? Because you two just _talk _the whole time?"

"You…_you_ talk…" A huge explosion of pain made me stop in mid-sentence, and I groaned in embarrassing response. "Uh…you talk a lot too."

"You're right, but I only talk about things that matter. She just talks nonsense. Most of the time. Now, look at me. I'm a little…disappointed I had to perform such a _brutal _punishment in you because of your foolishness–"

"I know and I said I'm sorry! You think I won't learn from this? All I wanna do is carry on with–"

"Ah-da-da…I'm aware of that, beautiful. But, uh...first we must finish the process."

"But–!"

"Now, come along, _Shaylee_…" He raised a crafty eyebrow. "Don't be such a wuss-wuss about this now. Aw, bless the little girl being so frightened of her own father. The things she does for _love_, huh? Holding back from fighting him back. Sure, her father may be just a _little _crazy…but look at her, not even plucking up the _slightest _bit of courage to fight for what's right? The thing I've taught her to do her _whole _life, and she's…too…scared to do it. I wonder what she thinks is _right _now? Because her thoughts is all that matters, after all. Women, huh? _Never _want to make anything fun. Always taking things so _seriously_. I do the harsh part so _seriously_, an' now she don't even wanna make things just a little fun!"

That's when I found the catch.

Without thinking properly, I raised my foot and bolted it hard into his crotch, where he fumbled backwards, clinging onto it. He started spluttering into what seemed like triumphant sniggers, and grinned up at me. I watched this hilarious display for a few moments, allowing my body to whirl with bizarre achievement.

I couldn't help but start laughing with him too, although I was still a little puzzled.

"Is that the kinda thing you meant?!" I jeered, cheerfully.

"Ooh-hoo…so she _has _got a little fight after all!" he cackled.

"You _know _I have!" I scoffed, sarcastically.

"Alrighty then," he groaned, standing upright. "Let's continue with the punishment, shall we, my dear?"

"But making it more fun, by having, uh...a little victim retaliation?" I giggled.

"If you want," he said, nodding. "It may be interesting to see such a little princess take someone like _me_ on, instead of being simply _weak_!"

"Excuse me, daddy, I'm no weakling!"

"Ooh, did _that _make you angry?!"

I displayed my fists, playfully, now starting to jump on my feet as much as possible, in my high heels. I beckoned him on, childishly, by waggling my eyebrows.

"Come on then, _freak_!" I taunted, purposely winding him up.

"Oh, you wanna play, do ya?" he laughed, insanely.

"It's what _you _want!" I declared, clearing my throat. "You wanna see me fight back? Well, since you're so _keen _to see it, let me at ya! I've been punished _enough_, don't you think? I'm not going to let _anyone _stop me now I've learnt from my _pathetic _mistakes! So you wanna see? I _know _this is what you _really _wanna see, isn't it, Joker? Me trying to be a fighter and beat some ass instead of taking your violence and groaning on the floor in such _pain _that I shouldn't feel 'cos it only weakens me! Jane is no _slave_, Joker! Thanks to several _bad days_!"

"Ah, now _that's _my girl, hmm?" he said, sinisterly, giving me a proud parental look, which just made me smile wider. "She's _finally _got the grasp of it. I always knew you were a dangerous one, Princess Jane. Shame you lost track of showing it, though, huh?"

"Oh, I'm dangerous, alright," I said. "And angry, a lot of the time. And sadistic. Violent. Overall, I'm a _nasty _piece of work."

"Such a _horrible _girl you are."

"I'm just like my old man."

"You wanna take me on, then, _little girl_?"

"Who you calling _little_?!"

"You're not even merely eighteen years old yet, little girl."

"Just because you're _old_!"

"Oh, _that does _it!"

The Joker escaped a small growl, but it wasn't a dangerous one, like the angry growl I'd heard so many times. It was a spirited, uplifted growl of mischievousness, and with the knife still in his palm, he lunged himself at me, making me squeal in surprise, but I responded just in time, by ramming another painful kick into his stomach. I was lucky I could lift my leg up so high with my tight leather skirt. I laughed as he groaned again, but laughing it off, just as hysterically. However, the next time he went for me, I was too late and he grabbed me by my hair and threw me to the ground.

I was now in such a rampaging whirlwind of adrenaline and hysterical insanity, that pain didn't seem to affect me anymore. Multi-coloured sparks flickered in front of my eyes, like picturesque fireworks on the 4th July. The flames had started circling around our catfight too. I wouldn't have been surprised if The Joker could see them, too. He seemed to be enjoying himself, but at the same time was a fierce animal, tearing its prey to pieces.

Soon, he was on top of me when he threw me to the floor, slamming my head against the tile, and like an aggressive, captured tigress I kicked and pushed him as hard as I could, until he eventually fell off me. I quickly got to my feet and beat him hard in his side while he was rolling on the floor, just like he had done to me. I blew an immature raspberry at him and laughed, mockingly, before he pulled me to the ground with him, and punched me back in my right side, with his knife, the blade just missing popping through me.

"Na-na-na-na, you _missed_!" I sneered, happily, before jumping up to my feet again. He remained laughing hard on the floor. "Come on, get up, _clown_!" I squealed. "What's the matter? Don't like the fact I'm _fighting off _my punishment now?! Don't like the fact _Jane's _come back?!"

The Joker slipped over again as he got to his feet, making me laugh uncontrollably again. I watched him cling onto his stomach, as he cackled loudly, before belting a fist towards me, but I skilfully caught it with my hand, so it was dangling in front of my face. The Joker didn't even try to struggle out of my grasp, and just gazed at me, as his arm became limp, almost with amazement, and I flicked an eyebrow arrogantly, as I smirked at my effortless defence.

"You…lied-uh!" he said, gruffly.

"I lie?" I inquired.

"You said Harley hadn't taught you anything about combat." His other arm suddenly launched, but I again reacted quickly when my heart missed a beat, and I grabbed it with my other hand. "Ya know, you _really_…oughta consider using all of this," he said. "I wonder why you haven't used _all _this before."

I didn't expect the stomp on my foot to arrive next, making me yelp in unexpected pain.

I inhaled a stifled breath and rocketed another kick into his lower area as hard as I could. He groaned, before fumbling backwards and shrieking out a triumphant, psychotic laugh.

"Can you see the fight now?" I asked him, my voice suddenly monotone.

"I always said there was a little fighter in you," he replied, standing upright again. "Thank goodness you got your fight from your dear old father. I like it a lot. I like _this _girl a _lot _more than the lump of nerves that was taking all the _punishment _just minutes ago."

"Me too," I agreed.

"Why don't she come out more often?"

My brain hurt as I thought about it carefully for several long moments. Finally, the answer flashed me like a bolt of lightning.

"Because she's been holding back because she's been corrupted…by men," I answered, lifelessly. "Two in particular, if you haven't guessed."

"Theo…Hatchett-ah…and…and your darling lover boy."

"Exactly. But that's in the past now. We don't think about the past, do we, daddy?"

"No," he said, now walking closer to me. "Isn't this marvellous, sweetheart?" I was met with another punch in my left side, but I barely even flinched. "You…getting the chance to show your fight and sadistic side…while…" I was given another slap to the face, but a very light one, "while you receive your…_pun-ish-ment_ at the same time." He prodded my face with little smacks again.

"Bet you feel _so_ powerful right now, huh?" I interrogated.

"Too right, PJ," he answered, raucously, licking his scars.

"I know this sounds corny," I said, "but this City really _is_ becoming at your hands."

"As I knew it would be. If…tonight…I _was _thrown in Arkham and they _did _catch me soon…it'd be no problem, 'cos I'll be home. Arkham is my home now, but I don't like it. Sometimes where we belong is not always where we're most happy and content…like, uh…a mermaid swimming around in a lagoon where they belong…but they'd rather be free and cause all sorts of trouble the big wide ocean. Or…a princess…being trapped inside her castle walls…where she belongs…" He then clutched onto my face, with the knife firmly in his hand. "But she'd much rather..._escape-uh_…her father's clutches…and roam free in the big wide world…and she _really_ needs to, uh…_unwind_."

"No princess deserves to be trapped," I snarled.

The Joker grinned, making his scars stretch into a gruesome smile.

"That's my Jane," he growled, softly.

I smiled adoringly at him. "You think Shaylee should be disposed of for good?" I asked.

"I thought she already _was_?"

"Oh, to _fully _make her go away, I may need another kick to get her _out _of my system _for good_!" I screamed. He didn't say anything, and just remained grinning at me. "I know it sounds over-dramatic–"

"It doesn't."

"But I told you I deserve being beaten because I betrayed…myself. Plus, I just feel a huge rush right now."

"Hmm. Just like the first time you had a rush?"

"Exactly like the first time."

He pushed my face away and flipped his knife in the air and caught it masterfully in the same hand.

"If you, uh…_are_ speaking the truth…then you'd wanna feel the pleasure from other's people's pain…" Joker sneered. He dug into his pocket and revealed another knife. "Take it," he ordered, holding it out to me. I grabbed it so quickly I pricked my finger with the end of the blade. "Now, I've seen the rush in you many times, now," Joker continued.

"You want me to stab you, do you?"

"You think it'll weaken _me _if I get a little knife in me, huh?"

"Of course not."

"Come on, then," he beckoned, darkly.

It then began with me hurdling myself at him, followed by minutes of brutal, animalistic combat.

Okay, not exactly 'combat'. Joker's fighting style was like an angry ape, kicking, punching and yelling like an unrestrained caveman and making the victim mentally distraught with the amount of damage caused by his powerful fists only. I always knew he had amazing strength, but I didn't feel it properly until this moment.

We both used our knives, defensively, as we fought like squabbling siblings, but I didn't viciously jam my knife into him anywhere where it would kill him, even though he wouldn't care if he died. In fact, if I did kill him, he would have been successful in making me as cold-hearted as he was.

But he couldn't have been as cold-hearted as the world thought he was, because he wouldn't kill me. He thought killing me was wrong, now he'd realised my strength and so-called 'insanity' was increasing far too aggressively.

He heaved me around on the floor by my hair, almost ripping strands of it out from its roots. I squealed with laughter, scoffing off the pain, and sang joyfully, as he gave me a ride round the floor, but I soon kicked him harshly in the face to make him release me. I received a few more kicks in my right side and in my ribs for this, but we both continued cackling all the way.

The Joker had me pinned against the wall with his resilient fists, tracing his knife all over me, while I remained blank the entire time, only occasionally making me wince and flinch when he carved over an existing wound. He planted many more scars and red marks across my body. He then poked it sharply in my right side, lifting my top up to reveal my bare skin, where it was infested in giant black and purple bruises, in shapes of garden flowers. It looked almost magical when I lay my eyes on it. The Joker even stroked it, lovingly, as he gazed upon it with twisted pleasure.

"Look at the mess you've made," I chuckled, panting slightly.

"Indeed," he sneered, giving me a predatory glare. "Tell me, little one. You, uh…you like seeing such things as this, hmm?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"Good answer," he snarled. "And you know…you can't do it to others…unless you experienced it for yourself."

He firmly held my other hand against the wall as he began prodding my bruises, which looked like large tribal hand-prints, with the knife. The agonising, pinching end of the blade then stopped and Joker started slowly digging it further into the bruises. I then escaped an involuntary whimper, to which he slammed my wrist against the wall, and then grasping it excruciatingly hard, so the blood would surely come to a stand-still in my veins.

"What are you doing?" I questioned.

"Ah, ah, ah…shh…" he said softly. "You're still in punishment, your highness."

"Yes…yes I know…"

"I know you're a bit of a smart-mouth, but I'd recommend being, uh…wordless at the moment."

"Not if I can help it."

I then grunted as I tried to escape.

Big mistake.

The blade The Joker held at my side popped through the blood vessels and very slightly dug into my side. I scrunched my eyes at the unexpected pain, until opening them again when The Joker swiftly removed it. He slammed the back of my head against the wall, along with my other wrist, so I couldn't hold onto my side.

"Oh, what's the matter now, huh?" The Joker asked, mockingly, letting out a shrill giggle.

"Nothing," I snapped, exhaling calmly.

"I'm just showing you…you need to _think_ before you make actions, as well," he chuckled.

"I know. You've told me that many times."

"Shame I have to remind you again, isn't it?"

"You didn't have to."

He paused for a few seconds, licking his scars.

"Do you feel that blood dripping, baby? Hmm?" he asked, deviosuly.

"Mmm," I groaned, doing just that.

"Do you feel any pain, darling?"

"Not much," I lied.

"I know you like blood though, don't you?"

"I love seeing it out of the worthless people I kill."

"Ah, seems Jane _has _come back."

"She's _always_ been here."

"Tell me why you like seeing it."

"Why don't _you_ tell me why _you _like it first, huh, Joker?"

"Oh, you wanna know, do ya?"

"Yes."

"Well, _sweetheart_…it's what keeps us alive, doesn't it? So seeing it leave someone…it's like taking in…_all_…of their life. You see…I only kill because I like it. As do you. Correct?"

"Correct."

"Seeing what keeps a person alive…leave…slowly…it's empowering."

"I agree."

"Such a shame you're can't _feel _the pain right now."

"Oh, I can feel the pain, alright, it's just…I can't…react. At least not negatively. I'm in no way letting _pain _affect _me _anymore. No…more."

"I like your laughter. You should, uh…do it more _of-ten_. Ya know?"

"Oh, I agree."

I kept me there, like a helpless captive, and stared flatly into my eyes for a few long moments. I knew straight away he was looking out for reactions. I remained unreadable in my face, occasionally closing my eyes and allowing to feel the blood trickle down my body, making a stain on my skirt.

It was so hard not to let out a whimper of pain, but…I just couldn't. The blood almost tickled, rather than caused me pain.

Suddenly, The Joker broke the silence a low chuckle. "Would you like to see that again?" he asked, making me shudder with how callous his gravelly voice was.

"Yes," I replied, a smile forming across my lips.

"Such a cold-hearted girl, you are."

"I know. You _know _I am. And I don't care."

"You have no feelings because your father said they do nothing but weaken you. It's impossible for you to have emotions. All they do is take over you. An incorruptible mind is, at times, the best type of mind a human being can possess."

"But it's also dangerous."

"Too right, princess."

"Because people like us are smarter than the average man."

"Hmm. I always knew you were a smart girl. Look at you, having a knife through your side, and you show nothing, and you know why?"

"No, _I'll _tell you why. It's because nobody can hurt me as much as I have been hurt in my entire life. No can threaten me with big remarks, because it will not affect me."

"And do you want to prove this to your old man, _finally_?"

"I _have _already proved it."

"Oh, no, no…today you proved you could still allow a person to drive your mind."

"_No_!"

"No need to shout, beautiful. It's all over now. I'm here, and like I said to you before, I'm your preacher."

"I don't want to be in _your _shadow forever."

"Is that so?"

"Isn't that what _you _want?"

"It may be. If you are what we believe you are, nobody can threaten you with anything. You may be a feeble female–"

"That's got _nothing_ to do with anything."

"Is someone getting angry at their father, now, hmm?"

"No. I'm just saying what I think, because, like you said, I'm standing up for what's right, what's _fair_."

"Oh…how…you must _hate _me right now."

"I could never hate you. You're my father."

"Exactly."

"You still don't want people to find out?"

"It won't matter if they _did _find out. It won't change anything."

"Won't it?"

"Of course not. You think they can use _you _to violate me? No…we are individuals."

"But you said we're destined to work together."

"We are. But think logically. That doesn't mean we have to be beside each other all the time, now does it, Janey baby?"

"I guess not."

"How do you feel?"

"On top of the world."

"Why is that?"

"Because…because of the rush."

"Good girl."

"I don't want it to leave me again. It motivates me to fight for what's _fair. _Remember the pleasure from revenge? I miss it."

"I betcha do."

"Is…is the punishment over?"

He laughed, quietly.

"Not until you pass out," he declared.

"What?"

"From blood loss."

"Bet you're loving this, aren't you, daddy? Seeing…this…_mess _on my body."

"Too right." Without warning, he then threw me onto the ground, where I slid onto my knees, landing in my own blood. It was still pouring out of my side. Joker grabbed my hair when he towered above me, forcing me to look at him. "Quite a motivational speaker, am I, or am I not?" he queried.

"The best I've ever seen," I giggled.

"_Good_."

"Certainly helps me."

"Good."

I smacked my face when he dropped me onto the tile floor, so suddenly, I actually yelped in surprise. My head was plunged into a series of pounding sounds again.

I realised in two seconds why he dropped me in horrified shock.

I heard battering on the door on the opposite side of the room, and I looked up to see several blurred figures dash into the room, some loaded with guns. I squinted hard to see that there were about five people approaching us.

I wanted to leap up to my feet to confront them immediately, but I found that my feet became stupidly glued to the floor. My leg shook hard and anchored me back to the ground when I tried to move, making a huge barrel of blood spill out of me again.

"Joker! What have you done?!" a ridiculously gruff voice shouted across the room.

I weakly looked up again to see it was no one other than the Batman himself, with his army of about four cops, which I couldn't make out properly, as they were shadowy figures of nothingness.

Before I could yell back at Batman, I was lifted from my feet and a huge arm was swooped around my chest. The Joker dug his knife into my neck, before whispering a stern instruction into my ear, "Do _nothing_."

As the confrontation began, my vision became darker and darker, my body floating so suddenly into weakness, my breath becoming distorted. I became light-headed, feeling like I was being drifted into another dimension of madness. The blood kept pouring out of my side, where Joker had (not even harshly) stabbed me, and as I was forced to feel it empty out more and more, I felt weaker and weaker.

I was passing out.

The voices inside my head, for once, were actually quieter than the real ones of The Joker and Batman, starting to yell at each other.

"Joker, release the girl now!" Batman growled, his voice coming closer.

"Why would I do _that_?" The Joker snarled. "She belongs with _me_."

"You've brainwashed her!" Batman shouted. "And now you're about to kill her!"

"If I was to kill 'er, would she still be alive right at this very moment. Come on, Batsy, you should know me better than that by now! You know if I want someone killed I do it _two seconds flat_! I was just showing Jane here some home truths!"

"Give her up! Don't you see she's actually terrified of you?"

"Terrified of little old me, huh? Now, come along, Batman, everyone knows to the average man I'm a _little _scary, but she's not the average girl, you know! She's a dangerous woman. I don't know why you're trying to help her! Bless you, Batman, taking her away from the scene of crime she was _dying _to see."

"Maybe she was in on your little game too. Maybe _she _knew you get twisted it to let the commissioner's family purposely die."

"Of course she knew. Like I said, she's dangerous. She's not innocent."

"Let her go!"

"By the way, what took you so long to get here? I've been hiding out here for at least an hour. What were ya doing, huh?"

"Helping the innocent people _you _captured and getting them to safety!"

"Such a shame. I thought you were _better _than that, Batman."

"I'm a better man than you'll _ever _be."

"Don't talk like that. Me and you are the same person, but in different ways!" He laughed gleefully.

"I'm nothing like you, you maniac. Now let her go!"

"What's it going to take for me to give her to you, huh? Another fist fight?"

"Let her go, _then _you're going to Arkham, where you belong."

"It's where _you _belong too. We belong _together_. Just like me and Princess Jane."

The vision in front of my then washed-out completely, until I only saw sparks of yellow flicker, and then lines of grey pixels, which faded into black, until I saw nothing. Just nothing.

I felt my body drop onto the floor, my face smashing onto the tile again, like I was a worthless ragdoll, the voices going crazy, telling me to do things, when I knew it was pointless.

I could do nothing.

One voice overpowered the others, hissing: _You're dead_. _Shay-leee? You're deee-aaad._

_Shaylee's a freak! _they chanted.

I may have been a freak, but I certainly I wasn't dead.

This is the trouble with having possessing voices, they give you mixed messages, making you paranoid. That's why I was so cautious about making decisions.

I wasn't dead. I'd just had too much blood loss in a short amount of time, and I collapsed onto the ground, with no one there to help me.

I don't remember what happened after that, except there were an awful lot of noises colliding in my mind.

They continued for hours and hours and hours, engulfing my own madness into my soul. It crackled with misleading messages and insults I'd heard a million times before. I had a war breaking out inside my head, and it seemed like they were going to fight forevermore, until the day I died.

In some ways, I wish that day would come around soon.

They were still fighting when that moment came round where my eyes feebly flapped open.

My breath was trembling, as I expected to wake up in a fiery pit of Hell, because that's what they'd been telling me I was falling into.

Luckily, I felt no heat when I came back around. The room was making me shiver.

I had no idea what to expect when I opened my eyes. I could have been anywhere, in reality. I could have woken up in Arkham, in hospital, in the middle of the street, or back in the room where I had just been.

Instead, I found myself laying peacefully in an unrecognisable room, noticing it the minute I sketched my drowsy eyes around the room.

I squinted my chocolate eyes hard to see an intricate line of flowers tracing the ceiling. I slowly followed it with my eyes and saw it tucked neatly behind a cheap, green-painted radiator on my right. My eyes then anchored down to my chest, where I saw a pale green sheet was over me, and only my face and arms were feeling the harsh pinch of the freezing room I was in.

Panting hard, I cautiously looked around me some more. The room was entirely green, different shades of it, with a small, gaping window, a whistling wind was escaping through.

I dragged my insanity-heavy head to my right, and there was a table, with a huge plant pot and sunflowers towering above. Lying next to it, like a lifeless body, was a small handgun conveniently placed on the table. I went to grab hold of it but I jolted back, groaning at the suddenness of a beastly pain that flashed in my arm. I grunted in too many negative emotions to list, glaring up at the ceiling, and the green ceiling started embedding red into it.

I knew the fire would come soon. I had to get out of there. However, much to my embarrassment, I was hauled back onto the bed as my body seared in agonising pain again. It was all over me. Now I'd moved it was everywhere. Sneaking down my back, smearing my arms, but most of all, I felt a horrible jab of unbearable pain come from my right side.

I clung onto it, as lightly as I could. My head started raging maniacally, even more so that I couldn't get to the gun. My head snapped towards the door when I heard a sound. Much to my horror, the door handle turned.

_It's a monster. _

"No!" I suddenly screamed.

_It's the devil coming to collect you. You're dead, Shaylee. _

"No..._noo_! No _no_!"

"Hey, hey...baby, relax," a familiar voice came.

I hadn't noticed somebody entered because I had started violently shaking and pounding my fists on the mattress in pure fury. I couldn't stop, and it just made the pains in my body start to tear me apart more and more.

I was eventually forced upright and pinned against the headboard by my bony shoulders. My head was shouting, but quietened a little when my vision cleared. It was then I noticed the figure was stroking my hair, which had been baked in grease, and I saw it was a woman when my vision became fully cleared.

I gasped when I recognised her smile and strawberry blonde hair.

"I-Ivy?" I gasped, my psycho voice unexpectedly coming out of my lips.

"Hi honey," she said, softly.

My eyes soared to the gun at the side again.

"Give me the gun," I said.

"What?"

"The gun. Give it to me."

"J-Jane, calm down..."

"N-No, you...you don't get it, I...I haven't had one in so long."

"It's been a couple of hours."

"What's the time now?"

"9:45 a.m."

"That's long enough. Please, Ivy...the gun."

"Jane, there's no need..."

"Just...just let me hold it. I promise I won't shoot it. I won't do anything. You have my word."

She very tenderly let go of me. I stayed completely still, following the gun with my eyes, as I revealed my gloved hand, wincing at the pain it caused, as Ivy handed the gun over to me.

"You okay now, baby?" she asked.

"Why you calling me that?" I demanded.

"Why not?"

"Fair enough. My god, Ivy...I...I don't even know..."

"I know you're a little shocked right now..."

"You _think_?!"

"But...you're safe. You don't need to worry about anything, sweet. Good old Doctor Ivy saved ya."

I stared at her. "Doctor?" I repeated.

"Didn't I tell you before? I'm a qualified doctor."

"Ah...another doctor whose poor little mind got corrupted by crime."

"Kinda..."

"Uhh. That's getting _sooo_ boring now. You don't find many girls like me nowadays, do ya? You know...just a little manipulative bitch who does crime because she didn't have a lot of choice...but...enjoys it. Nevertheless."

"Jane...are you okay?"

"Not really. Everyone in this goddamn city knows I'm not okay, don't they? They know I'm not right. I do wish people would stop–" I groaned as a flash of pain bulleted in my side. "_Stop_...uhh! Stop. _Stop _bringing that up. But, as a criminal, you have to go through pain. Physical and emotional. The physical pains...they only show you..." I giggled. "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger."

"Do you even remember what happened last night?"

"Of course I remember."

"I'll tell ya something, you're a pretty brave chick."

"I've always had to be brave. Growing up, in the presence of my dearest violent criminal father and my alcoholic mother...I _had_ to be brave growing up with that. It's _so_ cliché thinking about it now, isn't it? All people like me have shitty backgrounds that make them the way they are."

"I can't believe how calm you are right now."

"Oh...I'm _not_ calm. That's another thing I've had to learn recently. Cover up your pain and feel no emotions because then eventually they'll just fade away into the blackness."

"Jane...do you have any clue what you've been through?"

"Aw, come on, Ivy," I scoffed. "You're starting to sound like a boring psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. You're not like them."

"I'm just..." She sighed heavily. "I'm just trying to help you."

I looked at her for a very long time, before I became immersed in my mind and what it was telling me.

"I...I know you're trying to help me, Ivy," I said, calmly. "But I don't need help. I'm fine the way I am...what's in my mind, makes me who I am. That's what The Joker told me. And then he kicked me...in the ribs!"

I squealed into boisterous laughter, much to Ivy's surprising amusement, because she, oddly, started laughing too. I told you my laugh was contagious. Nothing was funny, of course, but my head had started sniggering at the mention of The Joker. Maybe it was his influence on me.

"You're mad, you are," she laughed.

"Maybe...a little," I chortled. "But, uh...it's okay! As long as I'm happy!"

"Are you sure you're okay? A minute ago you were groaning and screaming, now ya laughing. You're mood swings are crazy, girl."

"It happens a lot! That's the sucky thing about being bipolar, you can't control yourself."

"I don't just think it's that, you know."

"What are you suggesting, Doctor Ivy? Are you _really_ a doctor?"

"I used to be until I lost my goddamn job."

"Ooh, what happened?!"

"Crime happened."

"Corruption happened?" I laughed hard again.

"You could say that," she smirked.

"Anyway Ivy, I'm laughing off my pain because it's just a _joke_!" I cackled.

"You _do_ know who caused you all these injuries, don't you?" Ivy asked, now using a serious tone of voice.

"Uh..." I tried to think back, but for some reason my wound in my side played up at the mention of it, making it harder to think. "Uh...I think so..." I stuttered.

"The Joker did that to you..." Ivy stated.

"Oh. Oh yes," I said. "Nothing new really."

"You mean he's given you injuries before?"

"Oh _noo_...I mean...you see...The Joker injures everyone in his path. Including his own goons. I was one of 'em. So why is it shocking? Anyway, you realise it was for a _reason_, right? He beat me up for a reason. A good reason."

"What?"

"I was a...uh...a silly little girl and followed my heart instead of my head, which you just _can't_ do in criminality."

"And with _your_ head, no wonder you messed up."

"Hey, Doctor Ivy...you're pushing your luck now." I scowled at her, my mood changing as fast as the speed of light once again. "I...messed up..." I went on, gesturing with every inch of my hands, causing the gun I was holding to dance happily in my grasp. "You see I didn't follow what he said...well I _did_, but...I made a teensy little mistake ad he said he would kill me if I did...but he didn't."

"What...really?"

"Yeah. It's a long story, which I can't be bothered explaining. But...he spared me, Ivy." I nodded excitedly, starting to giggle sadistically again. "He saved me!"

"Which is why he left you with all these injuries?"

"Aw, Ivy...criminals get injuries day in day out. Most of the time. Don't _you_ have any?"

"Plenty."

"Then what's the problem, girlfriend?" I sniggered, imitating her low voice.

"It's just...The Joker is your father."

"Thanks for that bit of information I already knew. Will _really_ help me get through life."

"Your father could have killed you, the damage he's done to you. You've suffered from a hell of a lot of blood loss. _He _did that do you."

"It was punishment. Punishment is fair, you see, Doctor Ivy, he's only a fair man. And I'm a fair girl. He was only punishing me for making such a stupid mistake."

"What mistake?"

I laughed, heartily, shaking my head.

"And they say _I_ ask too many questions. It don't matter okay, Ivy? It's over now. So I'm guessing The Joker's in Arkham now, right? Did the Batman arrest him? Yeah?"

"Well...yes...by now he will be in Arkham."

"By now? They arrested the clown last _night_. Didn't they?"

"Yes, they did. I know. I was there."

"Hmm?"

"I was there when he was arrested."

She started snickering hysterically, presumably at the expression of confusion plastered across my face.

My head was still racking, but now my curiosity lead to the voices making suggestions. Having voices makes me so confused, I don't know what to believe.

"Do tell me more," I said, in a purposely creepy voice. "But you have to understand, Ivy...I'm not gonna tell you anything in return, ya know...regarding The Joker beating me last night. He _did_ tie me up, because he wanted to see me about what I did, but was concerned when I woke up from being on conscious that I'd try to run away, so–"

"I though ya weren't gonna tell me anything," she chuckled, now carefully sitting with me on the bed.

I was still jabbed up against the headboard, not in the slightest bit uncomfortable. I was taking very slowly in my moment of non-violent madness, just like The Joker would in a moment of explaining the ways of the world.

I raised my eyebrows and smiled dad's kind smile at the redhead, patiently waiting for my head to send me out of control. There was a gun still attached to my hand, and I was fighting not to use it. My head was on a wild roller coaster, and even though it was at the highest point it had ever been, I felt the madness crawling further into my brain even more so. This was strange, as it was happening as I stayed completely still. Normally my schizoid mind would worsen when I was going through a manic depression breakdown, or when I was recalling the lunacy bad days (as Joker described them), or when I was feeling the pleasure of murdering someone who simply wasn't worth my time.

It was investing itself into my head when I was simply lying in a bed, listening to the sirens of quietness, injured, silenced and collected. The madness now had new friends coming round to the party in my head, but they weren't making me go crazy. They were keeping me calm. Making me listen. I knew for sure this was the calm before the raging storm. Soon I would be off killing and burning things down.

I also thought, this was the madness completing itself. The little part that made me care was healing itself up with insanity. Ivy stared at me for a long time, as I took all this in, during the deadly silence.

"No more," was what I broke the silence with. My eyes managed to scamper up to look at Ivy. "Go on. Explain."

"I've been keeping up with everything that's been going on," she explained, in her voice that was like dark chocolate. "You know how Harley's working with The Joker? She's been my best friend for a few years now, I don't want her to get hurt real badly under the influence of that maniac clown. Plus, I was concerned about you, Jane, because you're only seventeen and you're fully active in a dangerous environment. When I heard about what The Joker was going to do at 52nd Street on the news, I _knew_ you and Harley were going to help him. I couldn't let Harley get hurt in something like that..."

"Are you in love with her?" I asked, suddenly.

"What?"

"You've gone bright red. Matches your hair."

"Uh…uh…anyway, I disguised myself as a cop and made my way down there. I knew everything that was going to happen because it was all revealed on the news that afternoon. The Batman, the idiot, wasn't reported to show up at the scene, but he did anyway, and I was behind him and Commissioner Gordon when everything happened, along with the other cops. To be honest, I thought you were dead when I saw Batman carrying you out of the building, but they said you were just knocked out. I knew Harley would be safer in Arkham than anywhere near Joker at that point, so she was fine. And then it all happened, Batman discovering the truth behind the clown's sick mind, what with the misleading detonator, and then them having a fist fight and Batman nearly killing him, finally, but he got away after knocking Batman and two other cops out. Nobody could find him, until we finally found you both, where we caught him being violent to you, where you were on the floor, blood spewing _everywhere_."

"He was giving me my punishment. I'm not _dead_, am I?"

"No, but with the damage he did it wouldn't surprise me if you had."

"He's my father. He would never kill me."

"He's a psychopath."

"That doesn't make any difference. He didn't _want_ to become a psychopath, I'm sure. It's only thanks to this world he is the way that he is."

"I'm sure you're right."

"The same applies for _me_, too. I'm not gonna sit back...and watch the world take the wheel of my life anymore. I'm especially not letting anyone I used to be in love with ruin me, because, if you really must know, Ivy, it's because of my ex-boyfriend I was battered last night. He don't know it, but it was his fault. The Joker sent him to free Harley, anyway, so I know he's safe. Supposedly. But I won't go into more details about what he did to me last night. It's pretty sickening." I then laughed so loudly, I could hear it echo in the hallway outside the door. "By the way, Ivy, I hope you're not some sort of fake. _Please_ don't tell me you're _really_ a police officer and it's a set up to throw me into Arkham."

"Why would I be one of _those_?" she scoffed.

"So…you _really_ just came to save me because you could? So _that's _how you know everything that happened to me last night?"

"Yes! I told you, I was there, that's how I know, girl! I couldn't let you or Harley get killed, I was really getting kinda concerned about ya both, it's a dangerous world out there, baby. But thanks to my medical background, I know how to heal your wounds and make you recover quickly. I had to save you before you lost anymore blood."

"How did you even get me here?"

"When you passed out in The Joker's grasp, he and Batman got into another attack because he wouldn't give you up, and while that was happening, I grabbed you, and then they took him away–"

"He's _gone_?" I shrieked, in horror.

"Yes..."

"To Arkham?"

"Yes."

My heart pounded in sudden shock. "But...but that can't happen, you see...we belong together. I...I want my father back...who's controlling him at Arkham?"

"Jane, relax, baby. What you should know is I brought you here to my very own well-hidden place and operated on you downstairs while I put you to sleep. I have all the equipment I need. I healed you successfully, but it took a long time. You may still be in pain..."

"Not really."

"But you should fully recover in no time and not feel a thing. I just had to stitch your right side because it was damaged _horribly_."

"I'm guessing you killed some cops to escape with me, huh?"

"I sure did. I had a machine gun." She winked at me, almost seductively.

"Nice one," I giggled, winking back.

"I knew you'd be safer hiding out here with me. Plus, I used to be a qualified doctor. You feel better?"

"Of course," I lied.

The wound in my side seemed to be healing already, but was still giving me sharp jabs of brutal pain. I couldn't focus on the pains in my body when my head was whistling and pounding so loudly, it filled up my ears, until I almost felt like the voices would start flowing out of my ears in a salty liquid and Ivy could hear them herself.

My eyes then caught the attention of the gun still in my hand.

"I need The Joker out of Arkham," I suddenly declared, under my breath.

"What?" said Ivy.

"I need The Joker out," I repeated, more sharply. "I want my father back...you...you don't get it..."

"Why would you want _that_?" she questioned.

"He tells me...that we're destined to be a team forever, because we helped to create each other's madness. He said at first he thought killing me would be no problem if it could get me out of the way, but now he's realised...I'm like the Batman to him. I helped create Joker, he helped create Jane."

"You're just like Harley, always going back to him."

"She's just an obsessive freak. I'm not. I'm just doing what's right. That's all I've ever done."

"I hope you realise Harley tells me everything."

"Yeah. Yeah...I...I'm sure she does."

"And she told me that you told her that you want to do things by yourself, you know, be a criminal genius in your own right and not loom in his shadow forever."

"That's right."

"You can't expect to achieve that if you keep going back to him. You don't want to be known as that crazy girl who helped The Joker, do you?"

"That's all _Harley_ is."

"So you gotta go out and achieve things yourself, girl."

I looked at her with mischievous eyes, and she looked back at me just the same. I knew she was cooking up something crafty, and that's the moment we instantly connected.

"You know something, Ivy," I said, my adrenaline-filled voice popping up again. "I like you. You have a point."

"And I'll help ya," she said.

"_Will_ you now?"

"I haven't gone and stolen a jewel for a while. Been wanting to get back into again for a while, but I usually do it with Harley and she's gone back to The Joker now. I need to get on my feet again, I need some money for myself. I _hate_ doing it alone though."

"But what about The Joker? What about my _daddy_?"

"He's smart enough. You think he won't find his own way out of there?"

"Hmm. I guess you're right. And you know...in some ways...he'd be proud of me. He'd like the fact I was going out and continue to plunge the world into what's really right. Anarchy."

I then quickly stared ahead of me when something flickered out of the corner of my eye, where a pixel image was now fizzling at the end of the bed. I squinted to make the hallucination brighter, and streaming rays of red beamed through the flesh of two figures. One was a tall male figure with bushy brown hair and yellow teeth, and holding his hand was a tiny little girl with caramel brown hair, smiling up at him in undying happiness.

"Uh...are you okay, Jane?"

"_Princess_ Jane," I corrected, breathily. "And I'm perfectly fine. Just...just having a little flashback." I continued watching them move robotically in front of me, and by Ivy's expression from the corner of my eye, I knew I had that vile smirk plastered across my face. "He's been there since I was little," I continued, monotone, describing my hallucination before me. It was magical. "Giving me advice, telling my I'm a special girl and...and that I'm not crazy. I...I can see the pleasure on his face he gets from ending a person's life. He almost always uses a knife. You wanna know why? Because...you can see the reflection of their pain and your achievement. So it's like you have double vision of your work. It's so...it's so...fascinating. It really makes you feel powerful. Using a gun makes it too quick, it's more painful with a knife, you see. I like to see the light fade ever since I saw it the first time a few weeks ago. My father likes to kill people, but really, like me, he's a tortured soul. I'm not letting anyone hold me back from getting the revenge and experiences I want now. Not even Chase Delancey. No. In fact, if I ever see him again, he'll know he can't change me." I blinked hard and shook my head, until the vision completely vanished from my eyes. "So, Ivy...except me, as I am...and don't try to change me because I'm not going to for anyone. It's time to restart doing things for myself, until I see dear old daddy again. You understand, Ivy?" I glared at her, still grinning, and she gave me an uneasy nod. "Good," I giggled. "You know...with you, an experienced thief, doctor and criminal helping me...this could be fun. I like you Ivy. And I also thank you, with what's left of my heart."

"You're welcome," she said, plainly.

"Do you like me too?" I asked.

"Of course I do." I smirked at how genuine she sounded. "I have so much sympathy with you."

"Aw, well you'd be the first," I laughed.

"You've been through so much trauma it's kinda unreal."

"You're telling _me_ I've been through a lot. All people like us have been through a lot, so why shouldn't the so-called innocent not have to experience too?"

"Exactly."

"So we gonna be like, partners in crime?"

"I guess so, but we do the things we individually wanna achieve, but help each other out with that. Sound cool?"

"I'm definitely up for that."

"Oh and I'll let you into a few of my secret weapons."

"Such as?"

"Ah...you'll have to wait for that until we hit the streets and start work. Yeah?"

"Hmm...okay. Sounds like a fair deal to me. This could be fun. This is my repayment of thanks...for helping me. Recovering me. And listening to me."

"Don't mention it."

"Can we get started then? I...I'm _dying_ to get my hands on someone and see them suffer. I've been called a pussy all my life, so having the upper hand is such a beautiful rush to me."

"You have to recover, first, girl," Ivy said, rising from the bed and heading towards the door.

"But I _am_ recovered."

"You can't go out there in so much pain. I'll help ya get it all sorted out ASAP and in the meantime, we'll see what GCN have to say on the matter of last night."

"Can I at least shoot something?!"

"I'll find something for you, baby girl. Don't you worry. Oh and uh...being dressed up as a police officer was handy in terms of getting into Arkham and looking through retrieved weapons and items from prisoners, by the way. I'll show you."

"You got something of _mine_?!" I gasped, joyously. Ivy winked and drifted out of the room, like an elegant ballerina, until I could only hear her green boots bashing down the stairs.

I slammed the gun into my other palm, as quick as a fire bolt. It was now spread out into both my palms, and I tightened my pretty fingers around it, like I was holding a china doll.

"What does a princess have to do to get around these days?" I muttered to myself. I sighed in wonder, hauntingly glancing above me to the ceiling. "Shame I can't drive. I'm starving as well, and look at me, I'm beaten and ridiculed. Served me right though, huh, daddy? Such a protective father I have." I began stroking the gun, like it was a frightened puppy. "A wonderful intelligent role model," I went on, to myself. "We may be freaks, but freaks belong together." I stifled into a harsh giggle. "Like the Batman belongs with us. Bless Ivy, thinking you'd tried to kill me. I always knew you wouldn't, because I'm your precious little girl. A happy princess. I'm getting the most precious service and care a princess deserves! Maybe...maybe I am a real princess after all!" I screamed with laughter, making the sheets somersault with my frantic kicking, bruised legs underneath it. "Ohh...just look at me, talking to myself. I'm such a _freak_! Just like my parents. Broken families are the best!"

I hollered rabidly, causing so much craziness, Ivy came back into the room, and leaned in the doorway, wiggling a cell phone in her hand. My reaction was one of a small child seeing a Disney Land float for the first time when I realised it was my own cell phone. Shaylee's old one.

"Recognise this, huh?" Ivy asked, pleasantly.

"How..._how_ did you get that?!" I gasped in irritating delight.

"Like I just told you," she explained, in her chocolate, movie star voice. "Dressing up as a cop and being allowed in Arkham led to me discovering a whole lot of handed in property from prisoners slash patients. I, uh...I found this under the name...Shaylee Napier? Along with a knife and a heavy purse of coins."

"Why didn't you get my _knife_ back?!" I barked, suddenly feeling rage throb in my head.

"You won't be needing that," Ivy said, calmly ignoring my sudden mood change. "I've got plenty of better ones to use than that old thing."

"You got a lot of weapons, then, huh?"

"More than enough."

"I can live with that." Ivy passed me my cell phone, and I sadly released the gun, placing it beside me on the bed. Just looking at it have me a slight gush of the past, but that soon wore off. I smirked up at Ivy. "Do you have a phone charger, Doctor Ivy?"

"I sure do. I'll go get it."

"_Then_ can we go?"

"As soon as you've recovered."

"_No_! Whose side are _you_ on?"

"You wanna go out on a rampage limping like an old lady?" she laughed. "It won't be good. Besides, I think we should catch up with GCN. We may be in trouble, baby."

"Ah, that only makes it more exciting. But you know what they say? Love your enemy. Keep your friends close–"

"But you're enemies closer," she finished.

"Exactly, and right now, this whole city is my enemy. Better keep them close, huh?" I snickered. "If you ask me, I think Gotham is underestimating me. They just think I'm The Joker's little puppet. I'm much more than that. He'll be proud of the fact I'm going to be let loose from his shadow for a while, won't he?"

"If...if you say so."

"I _know_ so. I'm not crazy. I'm just like my dad. No schemer, no weaknesses. Not anymore. Partners in crime. The Batman can't threaten me with anything. Emotions only weaken. Gotham has been showing its true colours so wonderfully recently, why shouldn't it continue? Everyone has a little madness in them. The trigger...It just has to be let off in their minds. The Joker said it only takes one bad day...why should we have all the bad lives and let other people get away with having ones full of...oh I don't know...things like love and friendship and family and happiness and laughter. Laughter that isn't like mine. While the majority I've had is depression and madness and grief and heartbreak and sorrow. My life defies everything that made me smile be taken away because the world decided to hate me. The only person who cared was...my dad. It's okay though, he's in Arkham now. He told me that was his home, you know. So he's home, safe. For now, at least."

Although I had not moved anything but my mouth, it felt like I had run three laps around the City at that moment. I glanced over at Ivy. She was staring at me, but soon flicked her red hair back to shake off my delusions.

"Uh...you feeling okay?" she asked, now smiling.

"I'm very good," I answered, in a cold, robotic voice. "I'm _very_ happy. I'm...I'm starving. And thirsty. My throat is like the Sahara desert right now."

"You want a sandwich? Cup of coffee?"

"Cup of coffee would be amazing. It'll keep my energy up, thank you."

"Gonna need energy if you're gonna be my partner, Princess Jane. I'm looking forward to this. Haven't been up and out providing for myself properly for a while."

"I'm looking forward to it, too."

"You should be. I _hate_ Gotham. We'll tear it down, chicken."

* * *

**The whole 'one bad day' and 'several bad days' is a reference to The Killing Joke, for those who didn't realise ;)**


	24. Girl Power

_**There's a twist coming up for a previous character, as well as a lot of talking again, but there's a reason for that. **_

* * *

**Chapter 23 - Girl Power **

Newsflash: GCN know nothing.

With Ivy's help, she guided me down stairs, while my phone gathered its energy, and we propped ourselves in front of the kitchen television. I sat on the table, cross-legged, directly facing it. Ivy flicked it on, I allowed it burn my eyes out with its bright, badly-signalled screen, just like Harley had done. Ivy dragged a chair next to the table I was sitting on, and sat on it, facing forward, legs apart, leaning on the head of the chair with her arms, while resting her chin on her arms with it.

We were fortunate to tune in just as they were about to report the updates about the terrorisation happening in the City.

They explained in detail what happened the night before, but of course, with their just as manipulative minds they twisted the whole thing, saying The Joker had at least sixty people captive, including Gordon's family. They also claimed that The Joker nearly killed Batman when it was the other way round, and of course, idolising the Batman to once again save lives and the evil villain locked away in jail.

As for me, they claimed I had gone missing, but they had sent a swarm of cops on a search party for me, as well as the Mayor of Gotham with his important ape detectives.

It was mentioned that they believed The Joker was now starting a rehabilitation programme in Arkham Asylum, starting therapy sessions that day with the head psychiatrist, Doctor Jeremiah Arkham.

"How can someone like The Joker have _therapy_?" Ivy laughed, when it came up. "Arkham think they can work miracles."

"Think they can twist his mind the other way," I sighed. "Not gonna work. They'll begin, and then The Joker will pop out to come and join me again. After a while."

"You said you wanted to do things for yourself, honey," Ivy said.

"I _do_," I spat. "I'm just saying he'll escape sooner or later, knowing his clever mind."

"Clever, but crazy."

"Such a dangerous mix."

"Jane?"

"_Princess _Jane."

"Princess Jane…I've been thinking…"

"What, honey?"

"You're actually prepared to do this, aren't you?"

"I'm not even going to answer that, Doctor Ivy. Soon as my health is fully recovered…and by that I mean…my _injuries_…of course…"

"Of course."

"You'll see…oh you'll see…and _this _time, I'm not letting _anyone _try to corrupt me or hold me back. If they do, I'll repay them with a very horrible death. By the way…this _so called news_…it's not a news programme…it's more like…the anchors are publicly starting some sort of foolish campaign. Like they're rallying the troops."

"Tell me about it. Don't see why they would need to now The Joker's in Arkham, where he belongs."

"Sometimes, Ivy…where we belong…is not where we _need _to be at a certain moment in time. Turn this bullshit off. I'm sick of it."

Ivy stretched over and with a huge sigh flicked the TV off. Even though the screen went black, and I could see my painted face, bluntly in the screen, I still remained staring ahead.

_There's so many people out there waiting for you, PJ, _a voice sneered. The voice was so flowing and buttery, it didn't even make me jump. _Just think of all you can do now there's no one to hold you back._

A sinister smile grew upon my lips. I licked my ulcers inside my mouth, arrogantly and cackled, heartily.

"What's so funny?" Ivy asked, laughing herself.

"_Life_!" I chimed.

"Very true."

"Ivy…may I ask a very simple question?"

"What, honey?"

She kicked her chair out of the way and strolled over to the sink, plonking mugs that were on the side into it and letting the tap leap off of them.

"How come you're not a known, uh…criminal, in this City?" I asked. "You know…Harley was before she even became Harley Quinn…sort of…but…no one's heard of you."

"I guess it's because I've been staying outta trouble since Harley escaped and was put into Arkham again," Ivy said. "But even then, I was still that wretched, broken Pamela. I've come a long way since then."

"Please tell me you're not one of those people who just does crime to provide for themselves."

"Well, how else do I get money for myself?"

"Crime is all about teaching valuable lessons to the world."

"I know, but I'm one of those girls who hates to go alone, because when I do, it always seems a bit…uh…"

"Lonely?"

"I guess you could say, lonely, but I've had a little trick up my sleeve, even before I worked with Harley. Even before I was Ivy. Doctor Pamela Isley came up with this ingenious idea to get everything I want. Everything I _deserve_."

"Not had a brilliant life either?"

"Not at all. All I did was work hard, and I was ridiculed and beaten down all my life. Mostly because of fucking men."

"Huh." I chuckled. "Why is it women like us are the way we are because of men? Haven't you noticed?"

Ivy turned around, flicking her ginger locks behind her shoulder.

"You're right," she said, smirking at me.

"I'm always right," I said, sharply. "I'm not stupid, you know. I'm far from it."

"I know. You may be a little girl, but you're a cold-blooded killer by anybody's standards, hey, chick?"

"Mm-hmm." I paused as I watched Ivy walk back to the table, twirling the end of her hair with her fingers, her nails pained dark green. "So what is this so-called ingenious idea?" I questioned, smirking widely at her. "Some sort of secret weapon?"

"Well…I _could _show ya, hon," she giggled. "Think about my name, and all the stuff I like."

She showcased her kitchen with her hands, pointing out the flock of plants dotted around at every corner.

"So you're like a sick, demented florist, are you?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I studied a lot about plants…toxins…and others things when I was in medical school…"

"Can I see?"

"Tell you what…I think you…well _both _of us, well…we need a little makeover."

I slowly lifted my head towards her, and raised my eyebrows, questionably.

"What for?" I asked, blankly.

"That leather black skirt…it won't help with your injury in your right side," she explained. "Plus…isn't it uncomfortable?"

"No."

"I won't have it, chick. Come with me. Let's get a proper skirt for ya. I hope you realise, Princess Jane, that I don't let anyone stay here or help people like this, because me…well…I am my own kinda girl. I don't like helping people, but because you've had it rough…I'm gonna be there for you. Gonna be like a mother to you, because Harley knew your mom. She wasn't there most of your life, was she?"

"Well, no. She's dead. My mother…was selfish…she cared about me but she never showed it to me. I guess…you one get one mother, and it's not you, Ivy. You understand?"

"I may be a little bit of the rebellious girl, but at least I understand what's in your mind."

"You can't know what's in my mind, until you've experienced it for yourself. So you can't really _say that_, Ivy."

"You appreciate the fact I'm letting–"

"Oh of course. It's just…you don't know things like…why…like for example…motivations…I have behind my mind…or…uh, how someone should be put to death, or…how to show people…what they're _really _like…do you…do you even know the difference of using a gun and using a knife on somebody?"

"Of course."

"And just to make one thing clear, Ivy…I don't work for you. I work _with _you. I do things for myself, like I have been…well…_should have _been doing. The Joker's away now. Gotham will think they won't be danger because of me, well, they can think again." I gave Ivy a serious glare, and nodded a little. She gave me wink, and then leaned over, on her hands, sticking her backend out, and smirking at me in a seductive way. She was a beautiful woman, with glistening brown eyes, her hair wavy and almost insultingly clean, and a smile that told a thousand secrets. There were many stories behind Ivy, and I knew by just glancing into her eyes that, like me and my father, she was a tortured soul deep inside, and she was still trying to sew her soul back into place. I, myself, had given up on that fact. "Has The Joker inspired you, Ivy?" I asked, not taking my eyes off her expression that was one like an excited child's.

"Not really," she sighed. "I try and stay away from him."

"Because of how he's treated the girl you're in love with, yeah?"

"I'm not in love with Harley."

"Yeah, whatever. I won't judge you know. I don't really _care_. I don't care about anything. Why should I, when no one cares about me? Besides, love sucks, all it does is ruin things. The Joker doesn't love Harley. He's what holds Harley back. I don't have _anyone _to hold me back anymore. Love is the most corruptive thing in the world. It's always there to control."

"Everyone thinks people like us don't know _how _to love. _That's _what annoys me."

"It's people like _us_…Ivy…people like me and my father…who were _so_ corrupted and taken over by their emotions that…it _destroyed _us. You can't deny what your mind tells you. That's all I'm following from now on."

"That's…that's pretty dangerous."

"I know. Oh well. Now, this skirt?"

"Oh…you want it, do ya, baby?"

"I want…the skirt, yes, Ivy."

"I have a few I don't wear anymore, because they're not green. Gotta have a signature colour, chick, I mean–"

"Can I just _see_…please?" I snapped, feeling the impatience fizzing in my fingers again.

Once again, I was itching to grip onto a weapon in my gloved hand. The desperation was triggering my paranoid-infested mind.

"Follow me," Ivy said.

Ivy helped me off the table, and led me up her stairs, where we burst into her cramped room, which was nothing more than a wardrobe, a bed, and a small side table with a lampshade, and a vase of miserable looking sunflowers. I slammed the door, and Ivy instantly started rummaging through her wardrobe.

"How long is this going to take, _Doctor _Ivy?" I questioned, irritably.

She snapped herself up, now gripping onto a small purple ruffled skirt in her right hand.

"What do you think?" she asked.

By now I was being pushed to the limit, and I couldn't help folding my arms and glaring at Ivy. I sighed deeply, and just simply nodded. She handed me the skirt, and after viciously snatching if off her, I examined it closely, stroking the thin material. To my surprise it looked comfortable to wear, and Ivy was about the same size as me. My leggings were ripped to shreds anyhow, but I couldn't give a care. Ivy had left my boots lying by the bed in which I had been recovering in, my feet had skin rubbing off every time I took the smallest step on Ivy's carpet floor.

"Fantastic," I said, emotionless. "Now, when The Joker came running back here, did any of his so-called 'men' leave some of his war paint in this greenhouse?"

"It's in the spare bedroom where you were, chick," Ivy replied. "In the cupboard. I saved some in case–"

"Wonderful. Listen here, I'm going to get ready, then I'm getting out of here."

"Do you feel–?"

"Ivy, you worry and _care_ too fucking much for a criminal, you know. I'm _fine_. You did a good job, girl. I don't feel a _thing_. You're not my mother, so don't act like it. We just worth with each other."

And with that, I stormed out of the room, and in three seconds found the spare 'recovery' room I had been in. I slammed the door and barged over to the cupboards, and instantly two enormous pots of face paint, one white and one black, lay peacefully when I pulled the door open, forcefully. Their heaviness nearly made me stumble backwards when I began to carry them. I left the room and searched the corridor for a bathroom, and luckily, the bathroom, painted with a hundred shades of green, was the room next door. I was careful not to damage my toe with how solidly I dropped the buckets of paint onto the floor. I locked the door, and turned swiftly around, to notice many fine-glassed perfumes, and a long line of colourless lipsticks, all in black cases. I carefully picked one up, popped off the lid, which revealed a raven-coloured thick stick of lipstick. Exploring further, I realised that most of them were black lipsticks, with only a few being lip-friendly colours such as red and pink. Not caring if Ivy minded I used it, I started apply the lipstick to my pout, making my lips, which were deteriorating back into their normal colour substantially, back to their nostalgic gothic style again.

Looking at myself then apply the face paint with nothing but the tips of my fingers, which were almost violently trembling of propelling adrenaline, I felt that instant rush start to rush through me. It didn't even matter that I could still feel searing pain in my right side. My largest bruise, trailing down my hip, had seemed to become invested in my dark blood, and was now shading itself a murky purple, with smaller, brown bruises dotted around it. The scar on my left shoulder still traced, leaving its ugly memory plastered on me.

After the black was splattered around my eyes, after I'd re-painted my face that chalky white, I washed my hands with Ivy's apple soap and warily stroked underneath my purple crowned-patterned top, where I clawed my nails into my skin, only to discover new marks and scabs joining my old ones.

I didn't feel a thing. Nothing. Even the water that was dripping from my fingers running over the wounds didn't seem to activate any sort of reaction. Of course, I could feel the pains from my wounds flash all through me, but for some reason I couldn't react. Touching my wounds, even pressing into them aggressively, didn't trigger anything from me. My face remained the same, completely blank and bluntly concentrated in the mirror.

It was almost like my wounds had joined onto my skin and they were part of it. I remember seeing scars and marks all over dad when I was younger. I remember asking if they hurt, but he always said no. You get used to them. After a while, you don't feel a thing. It was just like that gunshot wound I'd gotten. The scar had become engulfed into my left shoulder, and it was like natural skin to me now.

I wasn't ashamed or confused at all at this situation. In fact, it calmed me down substantially, which, as you know, needs to happen to me occasionally, otherwise my mind becomes overloaded with too much madness, that I don't even know where I am. The quiet, secluded bathroom, and my tranquil breathing made my mind relaxed, just reeling a few voices inside me, but they weren't shouting at me. I heard laughter. I heard the word 'fight.' They were preparing me.

I knew my brain had taken one step further into madness, which is unstoppable, but I didn't care.

I didn't care about anything.

Why should I care when no one else cares about me anymore? I don't even think it was possible for my own _father_ to care anymore, like I had believing he still was even after he'd become a maniacal clown. Even though he would never kill me, for some odd explanation, that I still didn't seem to understand fully, especially in his psychopathic, unfeeling mind, I was completely aware The Joker would do anything to break me. He'd shown that to me now, and he was in a place where belonged, but also where he wanted to be.

After taking a deep breath, I slipped my gloves back on, and unzipped my skirt, where I struggled to push it down to the floor. Ripping off my tattered leggings, I then put on the new, purple, ruffled skirt. I admired my cute new appearance in the mirror, smirking smugly, as I won't lie, made me look a little slutty, as it was a tad tight on me. My hair had grown so much it was almost drooping over my shoulders now.

I then ventured back into the spare room, where I slid on my boots again, and finally, placing my fragile tiara upon my head.

Something as simple as fitting the tiara on my head again, made me feel that rush of adrenaline, like the moment I felt it for the first time, when I became this psychotic princess of anarchy.

"Jane, baby?!" Ivy suddenly called from downstairs. She had the annoying motherly tone to her voice again, making me sigh in sudden impatience.

"What?!" I shouted back down.

"What you getting up to?"

"Why, what's the _problem_?"

"You know you said you wanted to see my special tricks?" she squealed, excitedly. "I can show you right now if ya wanna!"

"Be down in a minute, doctor," I shouted.

I slumped down on the bed, where my cell phone caught my eye, with its bleeping red light, that flickered at the top, whenever I had unread messages that were clotting up my memory. I curiously gazed at it, pulling the charger from the bottom. Out my sudden curiousness, I was eager to see who actually had wanted to contact me since I last had my phone, which was when I went to Arkham and was interrogated by Gordon. I immediately thought it could have been Chase, seeking advice on how to keep up with working for The Joker. I just wanted him deleted for good, and so I was eager to swipe everything of Chase from my phone for good, because being reminded of him, and the happiness we once had, would send me into a colossal breakdown.

Maybe that wasn't the case at all, but my paranoia was high, and it was annoyingly dominant in all my decisions now. Paranoia is an evil driving force, and in my case, it only created a more terrible person in me.

The screen lit up, and I speedily went to my unread messages.

But there weren't any messages from Chase. There were only three single messages, which had been there for about a week, and they were all from the same contact. As well as that, I had two missed calls from that contact, as well.

From Chelsea Archer.

Chelsea?

Filled with curiosity, I opened up Chelsea's messages, which looked like they had been typed by a math teacher with a Nokia. They read:

_Hey Shaylee. How r u? I know its been awhile since weve spoke, but I wud really luv it if u gave me a call. I've been threw such a shit time since me and Tom broke up. I cant stand im now. But its not just about Tom. Just give me a ring, yeh? I know ive been horrible to u bu I really need a frend rite now, and I think u need 1 2, rite? Ive been threw such shit. Plz call if you can, or just reply to this. Thanks, Shay xxx_

_Omg Shay, did u hear bout Tom being shot by that princess jane person? _

_Plz, Shaylee, call me? Xx_

I could not believe what I was reading.

Chelsea was my only female friend growing up, which of course, made us close. The fact that we both had ADHD made us even closer, she was also the only friend who was in the same grade as me. I just found Chelsea to be a decent and nice person, but when she was mad, things could get even worse than when I was mad. Because of our identical abilities in academic subjects and whatnot, we were always in the same classes together in school, therefore, the bottom class with the ginger kids, and so she told me everything about her life during classes we had trouble concentration on, so I responded by telling her most of what went on in my life, too, but of course, keeping that to the safe minimum. I never told her about my dad's behaviour, but I trusted her to know about my mom. She was extremely lucky, because even some of my male friends I never told about my mom. They just knew she was dead, but not for what reason. The reason I had disowned Chelsea was for the same reason as all my other friends: she wasn't there at the time in my life when I needed my friends the most.

So, at that moment, staring at the blinding screen on my cell phone with these out-of-the-blue friendship reconciliation messages, I thought, why _should_ I help her out?

It's always crazy when sudden things like this happen. My mind rushes into a spiral of wonder.

_Look, Jane, another ex-friend trying to act sweet and innocent_, a demon snarled at me.

"What?" I whispered, listening closely.

_Trying to make you feel sorry for her, the manipulative bitch_, it continued. _With all the chaos swirling around the city at the moment, she's scared. She scared. She wants you to make her feel better._

"I can't," I muttered.

_She doesn't know what she's getting herself into._

"Mm-hmm."

_What a shame she doesn't know who you are, and __**she's **__partly because of that. She's __**killed **__you on the inside. _

Another whisper suddenly rose up from its flames, its words then intertwining with the other callous voice, moaning the word 'kill'.

_She could be handy! _It screeched, overpoweringly. _Daddy wants you break minds! Break her, break her, break her._

_Oh she must be in such a bad situation_, the other one jeered.

_She's so worthless, just like __**you**__, she needs a shoulder to cry on_.

"No!" I screamed.

_Don't let her weaken you! She's worth nothing!_

_Her dark place is your bright one!_

_Do it, Jane!_

_Don't be __**pathetic**__, Jane._

"Shut _up_!" I yelled, jerking to my feet and kicking the cupboard door in a rumbling burst of dangerous frustration. "Okay!" I groaned. "You're right! Now fuck _off_!"

I'm not going to lie, the voices _were_ right, in my mind. They were always the most reliable monsters to steer my mind in the most psychotic direction, and this was no different.

Maybe Chelsea really _was_ in a colossal mess. She must have been to be getting into contact with me. Whenever she was going through a tough time in the past, usually due to family or her relationship with Tom, she never cried and moaned about it, she just complained for a few days, and then let it go.

If she was ringing me because of Tom's death, I was eager to tell her straight away that I was responsible, and I was in fact Princess Jane.

That would immediately break her.

Although I had poor signal, I went and rang Chelsea's number, hoping the phone call would be louder than the voices insulting me in my head, because they were hurdling my mind into sudden, agitated madness, they were so deafeningly.

They were still shouting the words, kill and break, making it flood up my mind, locking my mind onto insane determination immediately.

It sounds strange, but I've always said that my mental illness makes things happen so suddenly, that it makes my hyperactivity lock onto high rampage.

The first ring, Chelsea failed to answer. The second ring, the phone was answered within two seconds.

"Hello?" she said, sounding hoarse.

I smirked. "Hi, Chelsea," I replied.

"What's happened to your voice?" she asked.

"What?" I cleared my throat, loudly, desperate to return to my normal Shaylee voice, as I'd forgotten my voice was infesting itself into this new, creamy psychotic voice. "Nothing," I said. "Nothing, there's nothing wrong, right?"

"Uh…no, no, uh…Shay how are you?" she asked, her voice sounding almost as bland as mine.

"I'm…I'm uh…" I stammered. "You wanna know the truth?"

"Well…yeah. Course I do."

"I'm in a bit of pain, but I don't feel anything."

"Oh…oh my god, are you okay?"

"I just said I don't feel anything, alright, Chels?"

"Sorry."

"How are _you_, anyway, Chelsea?" I inquired, relaxing onto the bed again, gazing up at the verdant ceiling. I grinned mischievously. "I just got your messages now. What's happened to you?"

"I'm amazed you rang, to be honest, Shaylee."

"Well, why _wouldn't _I?"

"Well, the last time we spoke you sounded like you were going through a breakdown, and you never wanted to see me again."

"Ah, but the past is the past, honey. Now, it's not like you to sound _this _upset. So what's up with you, hon?"

"It's…it's hard to explain."

"Well, you know we can tell each other _anything_."

"But we haven't even spoken for about two years. We're both responsible for that. After what's been going on around here for the last month, we should have gotten back into contact."

I sat up in amazement, bewildered by how depressed Chelsea sounded. She sounded exactly like I did when I plunged myself into depression. Chelsea was always a cheerful person. I know I only mentioned her briefly before, but that's because I need to talk about our friendship much, as it was just an ordinary, happy friendship. Do I need to say more than that?

"Why?" I asked. "Have you needed me, huh? Have you needed a friend?"

"Well…yeah."

"Wow…you sound…_broken_. You sound _awful_. Hmm…you almost sound like you're, uh…_breaking down_."

"I…I _am_…" she sobbed.

"Aw, Chelsea…don't cry. Crying doesn't resolve anything."

"Shaylee, I'm just so sick of everything. I'm _sick_…of _everything_. I'm _mad _at everything. I fucking _hate _everyone. Especially in the last month. The criminals have just been _filing _out because all they want is my family's _money_ and now, I…I think I lost _everything_."

"Tom?"

"You know about Tom?"

"Very much so."

"Well…I didn't know what to think of that." Her voice had a disdainful edge to it now, like hate was spitting from her mouth.

I couldn't help but smile wider.

"Oh? How come?" I questioned, now dangling my legs over the end of the bed.

"I…" She sighed, sadly. "Well…Tom and I broke up about four months ago."

"Oh. Oh, I see." I giggled under my breath.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing."

"I ended it because he started beating the shit out of me, he'd been doing it for ages, but I was scared of telling anyone. My stepdad caught him beating me up in my room and that was it then, but I'm so glad he did. I was _so _glad to see the back of him. He drank too much, Shay…but he still wouldn't leave me alone. I hate him so much."

"I don't blame you," I grinned.

"But I didn't want to talk to you about Tom, anyway, Shay. He's _done_ with."

"So you glad he got killed, then?"

"Well…I don't know," she whimpered.

"Ah, come on. At least now you know he can never hurt you again, because he's _dead_," I chuckled. "I never liked him anyway. He always seemed like an asshole. He hung around with Alex, what did you expect? You'll never see him again, now. _Ever_. Surely you're happy about that."

"Well…in a way…but he was my first love and that…"

"He obviously didn't love you if he beat you, Chelsea. Love is…_so _overrated anyway."

"But, you're with Chase, surely you know–"

"I'm _not _with him anymore! He's out of my life for good."

"But…he was so nice to you…I mean…what happened?"

"It doesn't matter. If we talk about I'll get mad, and you _don't _want me mad, do you? But good old Tommy's dead now. People like that don't deserve to live, do they? Much rather a druggie live than a woman-beater, if you ask _me_, Chelsea."

"So you think he deserved to be shot by that…_woman_?"

"It's not _my _problem, is it?" I lied. "Nothing we can do about it now, Chels. I'm sorry to be…_unsympathetic_…but I'm just telling you the truth, because somebody has to. Tom weakened you. You can't let men _weaken_ you, that's something I've learnt recently. Now he's gone, you won't be hurt. Physically, at least."

"Shaylee…"

"What? You know me, Chelsea. I'm not one for lying. I'm just being honest. You telling me you're missing Tom batter you?"

"Of course not," she wept.

"Stop crying, Chelsea, and tell me, what's _really _the matter? Because you said it's not _really_ about Tom, is it?"

"No. I don't _want _to think about that scumbag," she said, with that hatred edging on her voice once again. "He ruined _everything_, and I've been going through enough as it is!"

I grinned again.

"Good answer," I said, deviously. "Now. Tell me what's up, my _friend_."

"Shay…are…are you okay?"

"Of course I am."

"You seem a little…"

"Hmm?"

"A little…weird. You're voice sounds weird, but I guess you _have always _been a weirdo," she sniffled.

"Aw, thanks, hon," I chuckled. "Now what's _up_? Is it something to do with your family? Ooh, ooh, let me guess…since all this madness has been happening in the City, criminals have ruined your family? Stolen of you, maybe? Uh…has somebody _died_? Oh that must be _terrible_!"

"No, no…no one in my family's died, Shay, but…things have been happening, for _months_. Even before this psychopath started terrorising and killing people. It's been…it's been such _hell_, Shaylee…"

"You know, Chelsea…this reminds me of a very familiar situation _I _was in…"

"Because of your dad?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Did…did he die?"

"No. He didn't die. I was right all along. He just went missing, but I found him. "

"Oh…oh."

"Yeah, and no one supported me through it and I was _just _like you are now. Crying all the time. _Sad_. Depressed. Not knowing what to do, but _don't _apologise to me, Chelsea. I don't wanna hear that, it won't leave any sort of effect on me. You had your chance to be there for me, you never took it, just like your ex-boyfriend didn't, and the rest of 'em. But let's forget about that now, hmm? Let's move on. I found my dad in the end. The past is the past, right? Let's…let's talk, because I'm so _nice_…I'm going to listen to you, but if it's some pathetic reason, you'll get a taste of your own medicine…and I won't help you. If it's something majorly _awful_, then, yeah…I'll help, because I'm a decent friend, aren't I?"

"You always were," she said, gratefully.

"Am I being fair then, honey?" I asked.

"Yeah, I totally get it."

"Good. Now, tell me what's happened."

"Well…well…" She stifled a shaking breath. "You know…you know my dad?"

"Your _real _dad?"

"No, no…my stepdad."

"Oh the one you always talked about? You mean Edward? That guy you said was, uh…incredibly rich?"

"Yeah, he's practically my dad. He's always been there, he's been married to my mom since I was five. He's my dad."

"What about him?"

"Oh, and he's _not _rich. He's not exactly _poor _or middle-class but he ain't _loaded_ with money. I just said he was when we were younger because I wanted to show off. He's…he's always made me, my mom and my brothers happy, but…things have just gone so _wrong_."

"Ooh, ooh! I know what's happened!" I cried, the twisted possibilities to break her mind over He…lost his job? No? He's getting divorced from your mom? Uh…he's having another baby with your mom and you'll feel left out?!"

"Shaylee, stop it! This is serious!" she barked.

"Well, why be so serious?" I said, playfully.

"You said that you'd _listen_, so listen to me!"

"I'm sorry. Go on," I insisted, still grinning.

"Well…you know I told you my dad…_step_dad…has this amazing job as a quizmaster and kid's entertainer and has had it for so many years? Well…r-recently…he…he hasn't been getting much work. He and mom have been arguing because we've been losing money…and Edward's just been having these panic attacks and it's so awful to see." She whimpered, quietly and sniffled a few times before continuing. I listened very closely to this almost identical emotional breakdown that bolted a flashback of my own to me. For some reason, it made me smile, because the outcome of all my emotions turned me into Princess Jane. The more Chelsea wept down the phone, the more manipulation and schemes jetted into my mind, making the adrenaline start to fizz through my veins. "When…when he _has _been getting work...he's done well, but, a few months ago…he was humiliated one quiz night. Mom and I were there, and we saw him nearly hit a man who insulted him and beat him up in front of the whole audience at the bar. He and mom argued because he wanted to quit the job straight after that…but we convinced him to keep it. He did, and…and it was okay for a while…but…but, i-it's ever been since this terrorist came along, he's encouraged so many criminals to do terrible things…and…a few weeks ago…"

Her sentence lingered off as she exhaled a few trembling breaths. I could hear the cries sticking at the back of the throat, and I waited for the moment she would collapse into loud tears.

"Alright, Chelsea," I said, soothingly, but perilous. "Calm down. You're obviously, uh…going through a _lot_…"

"Y-Yes!" The loud weeping finally came.

"Okay, okay, Chels…tell me where you live. Shall I come over? I can, uh…I can cheer you up. Give you advice."

Chelsea sniffed hard. "Would you?" she whimpered.

"Of course," I said. "Where you live?"

"I'm not at home at the moment," she replied. "I'm hiding in a park. You know the park in the City Centre?"

"Ah, the big one?"

"No, it's a little kids' park, but it's near the bigger one. It's near a church."

"I know the one you mean. I'll be there."

"But how are you even going to get here?"

"I'll get a lift from my friend. See you soon."

I slammed my phone closed to end the call quickly. I sprang from the bed and started sprinting down the stairs, where sure enough, Ivy was waiting for me in the kitchen. Now wearing small, cotton green gloves, in her small hands, she was stroking and admiring a glass bottle of what seemed like perfume, which was colourless. Her head lifted up and she smiled, pleasantly.

"Alright, chick?" Ivy greeted. "Are you okay? What were you doing up there?"

"You won't believe it, Ivy," I chuckled, smirking cunningly. "Just, uh…got back into contact with an old friend. A female friend. Oh, she's been through a _terrible _time recently. Oh, it's so _awful_."

"What?"

"Her stepfather, Edward somebody, he's been going through some sort of panic attacks because he's been humiliated doing his quizmaster job by criminals that have come onto the scene, which she says have appeared more since The Joker's come to town. Apparently it's really bad. She hasn't told me anymore, but…you know what I presume? I'm guessing her stepfather's been attacked by a thug or something. Who knows? He could be in morbid condition. It's remarkable. It's like Chelsea…is going through the same little predicament that _I _went through. Seeing her father figure go through breakdowns, and maybe now _she _is because her parents are arguing."

"Holy smokes, Princess Jane!" Ivy exclaimed, rising quickly to her feet. "You know what this means?!"

"Do _you _know what it means, Doctor Ivy?" I inquired.

"Knowing _your _mind, it's a…it's a…"

"It seems to me Chelsea needs to gain _revenge _on all these terrible men who have humiliated her stepfather…well, her _dad_."

"But…but…_we're _criminals, Jane."

"_You _may be a typical thieving, kick-ass female criminal, but _I'm _not. I'm a criminal who can't _stand _working with other criminals–"

"So why you workin' with Poison Ivy, honey?"

"If you let me _finish_…" I sighed deeply. "Most of the people I've killed have been so-called 'criminals'. That's all The Joker did as well…he proved he's the highest class of a criminal."

"Too right, he's a demented _terrorist_."

"_So what_? He was only proving the world how self-righteous it is. Chelsea must _hate _all these low-class scumbags, and I _bet _they were men. Always taking advantage on young girls like us. She must be…ooh, she must _so _angry right now."

"Let me guess, we're gonna see 'er, are we?"

"She _wants _me to see her."

"Does she even know…who you are?"

"I'm guessing not. She probably won't be pleased when she discovered it was me who killed her bastard ex-boyfriend. If she isn't willing to listen to me, I'll kill her. Simple. But you know, something, Ivy? I reckon I won't _have _to. She's so, uh…_emotionally_…distraught…that she'll do anything."

"You bitch," Ivy laughed.

"Thanks," I sniggered. "Now, can we take your van and get to this park we're gonna meet her at?" Ivy remained quiet. "_Now_."

"Let's go!" Ivy cried.

"And no arguing with me, please, sweetie," I mocked her baritone voice.

"Why would I?"

"Because I know you're not fond of my father…and I'm a lot like him."

"Nah, you're better than him."

"Because I'm a girl, right?"

"Right."

She winked at me, seductively, before swishing out of the room, grabbing some car keys on the side as she left.

As she prepared the van, I grabbed a sharp-bladed knife and a gun of Ivy's from upstairs, and, still feeling the ripping pain through my right side, I quickly followed Ivy outside, where we quickly dashed off into Gotham, in her pink van.

It was soundless in the van, but I couldn't help but stare at Ivy's perfectly rounded, spotless face. She was grinning the entire journey, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. I could tell at the top of her gloved fingers, they were vibrating with high adrenaline, although I was confused as to why. Was she high on disturbing pleasure because I was about to succeed in breaking someone? Was it because she was attracted to me (because it was purely obvious to me she was either a lesbian or bisexual, from how she became sheepish whenever Harley was mentioned)?

"Excited about something, Ivy?" I inquired, grinning just as wide as her.

"All this, it's just so sudden and…" she breathed.

"Exciting?"

"Just haven't been about in these streets for a while. Most of the people who I hook up with haven't been around, because Harley was locked up for a while, and when escaped with you, she went straight back to The Joker."

"You mean they've been together before he started raising the beautiful chaos, hmm?"

"Yep. Well, I knew _Jack_. When he went completely crazy, Harley was there…in fact, he made her _worse_, her obsession with him became dangerous. The Joker came about, almost out of nowhere, and Harley was with him then before he even returned to Gotham, in fact she came back to Gotham before he did...and as for what you said before…I'm just an _average _criminal wannabe, am I?"

"Seems like it. Just seems to me you only do crime to provide for yourself, which is _pathetic_. You don't wanna prove a point to the world."

"You haven't even seen my secret formula yet. It's what makes me…"

"Let me guess. What makes you unique?"

"You could say that, but it also says I don't _care _about society. Society in this crime capital of the world hates me, so why should _I _care about them?"

"Good point, Ivy." I watched Ivy park in the large parking lot outside the drought parks in the Gotham City Centre, a neighbourhood I had visited many times when I ventured out with dad, so I was quite familiar with this area. The streets were bare, apart from a few figures dotted around. The buildings were collapsing apart, the sky atmospherically dark and the streetlights dim. Shadows stretched across the park, which I peered over to when the van halted. Ivy snapped off her seatbelt and saw her hand reach for the door. My eyes grew bigger and I clutched onto her wrist. "No, Ivy," I said, calmly.

"What?" she stammered.

"Let me go and see her…on my _own_," I hissed. "You stay here."

"Why?"

"What's the point of you coming?"

"Uh…come on, chick…"

"Nah, you're okay, Ivy. Just leave it. I'll sort her out. See you in a minute, _hon_."

I twisted her wrist to make her grunt in pain, while I quickly hurried out of the van, grabbing my handgun with me as I left. Luckily, Ivy remained stiff in the van with a threatening glare at her before I made my way to the miniature children's park.

I strolled down the street and up some stairs to make my journey to the park, cold-heartedly shooting a woman in front of me as I did. Several people spotted me, but much to my pleasure, they startled away, like pathetic damsels. They yelled out my name, and someone nearby instructed to inform 'commissioner', but could not finish the officer's name when I snapped off the end of his sentence with a bullet to his back. The people around him hurdled away before their lives ended, too. Such wise people there are in Gotham.

I eventually pushed back the squeaky gates of the tomb-like park, where I instantly saw a figure ahead, back facing me, rocking silently on the swing. Her hair was a maroon colour, and was tied in a greasy ponytail. I thanked the heavens there were towering trees planted around the face, making my location somewhat safe.

I heard Chelsea weeping quietly. She hadn't heard my arrival. I tiptoed up to her, until I was a hair's breath away.

"Chelsea!" I chimed, happily.

She yelped in surprise and fell forward, twirling around. She screamed louder upon seeing me, and shuffled backwards on her hands, until she was up against the fence. I was soon in her face, to engulf her horrified expression.

"P-Please don't hurt me…" she whimpered. "Please, I…please, don't…"

"Oh, Chelsea, you _are_ silly," I chuckled. "It's me!"

"Wh-What are you _talking _about?!" she cried. "Please don't hurt me, I...I won't have anything you'll want!"

"I don't understand," I said, in sarcastic tone. "I thought you asked me to come and see you?" She gave me a gaze, which was dripping with horror. "Shocked, are we, chick?" I asked, kneeling down to her level. "Look into my eyes," I ordered, purposely turning my voice ice-cold and patronising.

Her eyes squinted, as she remained panting hard, with her trembling hand gripping onto the fence behind her, for her guidance.

"How…how…" Chelsea spluttered. "I don't understand!"

"I thought you were _smart_, girlfriend!" I laughed, scornfully. "Can't you work it out yet?"

"You're…you're not Shaylee…" she said.

"Shaylee?" I gasped, sarcastically. I leaned into her even closer. "You mean Shaylee _Napier_?"

"Y-Yes…" Chelsea blubbered. "What have you _done _to her?!"

"Oh, Chelsea, you _are _a silly sausage!" I snickered. "Shaylee is _dead_. _I _killed her, and when she died, you see…she became someone _else_!" Chelsea paused for a few long moments, her eyes drawn towards the gun in my gloved hand. Her words now failed to reach her lips, so instead I just gave her a friendly smile. "It's me, Chelsea…" I whispered. "I'm not gonna _hurt _you. Not unless you're reasonable to me."

"By…by that you mean…?" she questioned.

"Just…you'll see." I sat down, cross-legged in front of her, even though she remained glued up against the metal fence by her sweaty palms, and was still staring in panic at the gun, which I immediately dealt with first. "To make things calmer, Chels, I'll put my gun down…" I did exactly that, laying it peacefully next to my leg, however, the tip of my middle finger refused to let the adrenaline die, so I kept tapping the tip of the hammer with that finger, rhythmically. "So…what _has _exactly been going on, honey? You know you can tell me."

"This is a trick," she said.

"Hmm?"

"You…you _can't _be Shaylee."

"Well…a long time ago, but now, you can call me Jane. I'll let you off calling me _Princess _Jane."

"But…but _how_…?"

"It doesn't matter. By the end of this day, I think maybe you'll get the grasp of how…Shaylee died."

"Because…because you went through so much emotional drama?"

"You could say that, or…uh…you could say I got a taste of reality. Nah, I got _gallons _of it, in fact, and it tastes _so good_."

"Being…being a criminal is _good_, is it?"

"Ah, come on, Chelsea–"

"N-No…_no_. No! You _can't _be! You just _can't_!"

"Be what? A criminal?"

"_More _than that! You're a murderer!"

"Exactly, I'm _not _a typical criminal thug, like _most _people think I am! I am not a typical lowlife criminals…like the one who assaulted your dad."

"How…how do _you _know?"

"Oh was it a fine, upstanding citizen who attacked him, then?"

"No…it…it _was _typical lowlife scumbag."

"Male, I'm guessing."

"Yeah."

"I thought so." There was an awkward silence, as neither of us moved. I gave her that sociopathic gaze, to make her uncomfortable to tell me anything. "I'm not here to kill you, I'm here to _help_ you," I reassured, sneakily. "Like I said I would. I guarantee it. Would I lie to you?"

"It's just…this is just–"

"Strange?"

"I was going to say unexpected. You know?"

"Why? If you fit all the pieces together," I explained, gesturing with my hands, "they add up as to how Shaylee came to be in _my _skin."

Chelsea finally relaxed a great deal, and now sat in the same position as me, directly facing me.

"So…so this isn't a trick to murder me in broad daylight?" she inquired.

"Of course not!" I jeered. "I wanted to help you…uh, see the light. Help you move on from your terrible time in a…_pleasurable _way. A benefiting way, for _you_…because that's what you deserve, right, honey?"

"What…what does that involve?" she asked.

I smirked as I started to rack my crafty mind. Chelsea seemed suddenly intrigued, making a smug smile form on my lips.

"Well…firstly, isn't it important to know what's happening with you?" I said, raising my eyebrows at her. "I'm guessing your dad's in trouble."

"_So much _trouble." Her voice cracked, and her head dangled down heavily. She intertwined her long fingers, weakly, and shuffled in her space. "But it may sound stupid to you," she mumbled.

"Look at me," I instructed. Chelsea feebly lifted her again, where her blue eyes popped up. "It won't be stupid at all," I giggled. "Come on, tell me what these, huh, _typical_ criminals have been doing to your family."

"I…I don't really know where to start," Chelsea explained. "It just sort of came out of nowhere. Everything's been perfect for over ten years, and then, suddenly, when Batman appeared and starts prosecuting these scumbags with the cops, criminals seem to be rising up, just for the sake of being rebellious assholes. Everything…e-everything was great…until…until my dad broke down after he was assaulted a few months ago."

"Why was he attacked?"

"I don't _know_! Because these criminal guys just decided to show up one night at the quiz night. They were so _pissed_. My dad had tried to make the quiz harder by including really tricky riddles into the questions, as well as doing riddles separately, that he'd done in his kid's shows and stuff. This guy…Frank, I think his name was? He was there with some friends. Anyway, he started insulting him, joking it was too hard, _really _loud, making _everyone _laugh at him and all of us…and my dad just lashed out back at him. A fight broke out so suddenly because this Frank guy insulted my mom next. Like I said to you on the phone, he nearly gave up the job he loved so much over it, and it was fine for a few weeks, back to normal, a-and that was in the past…but then…they…they just kept _bullying _him when The Joker started encouraging criminals in this shithole!"

"Bullying?"

"Frank and his cronies, including his so-called crime boss brother, who worked with that Maroni crime boss guy, you know him, right?" I nodded. "Well, they came back to another quiz and riddle night, and at first, it…it all seemed fine…until…until the night was over and they got into another fight outside. Frank and his brother held a gun to him. I tried to save him, and then…then one of Frank's friends held me by the throat in…in _front _of my parents…but dad pleaded that they could do _anything _to him, as long as me and my mom were safe…"

"They _killed_ him?"

"No! No, they didn't…_kill _him. They got him arrested a few weeks after that night after coming up with some vile plan…in fact…it was three days ago he was thrown into Blackgate Prison. He…he was taken away from our house by the cops…I was _screaming_…oh god it was…" Her sorrowful sigh trembled, as her head plodded down to the ground, again. "It was the worst day of my _life_. These criminals had framed my dad for fraud. Made out that the riddles and…the q-questions were…behind some sort of criminal conspiracy to gain money or something. They made out to the police that he was just as much of a lowlife as _they _were. I'm not exactly sure what sort of _vile _thing they did that got him locked up for fraud…but before the police arrived…dad went _mad_…I heard him say he was scared they were coming back for him…they just wouldn't leave him alone, calling him a faggot and all sorts. I reckon they were just jealous of him, because he had an amazing job and he loved his kids…even _me_, who's not even his biological daughter. But I may as well be…" She wiped a tiny tear away from her eyes, and stared at the sunless sky above us. "I just want to fucking kill those guys," she snarled, making my ears prick up. "They're just _scumbags_ who picked on my stepdad for no reason. They just thought it was _hilarious_ to terrorise my family. That's why…I'm _terrified_…of _you_…right now…because you're a criminal, aren't you? And I just told you everything, but I don't care anymore. I just feel like I don't give a fuck no more. Especially after everything with Tom. My life's just been turned into hell, Shaylee– sorry…Jane. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I…I can't do _anything_–"

"I…am _not _like them," I cut in, defensively. "The way I work, you see…I don't go and destroy other people's lives because I just _want _to," I twisted my words. "Just for twisted pleasure…even though that _is _fun sometimes. I work by…revenge."

"Which is why you killed Tom?"

"Precisely, _and _all of the others. Something I've learnt, honey, the only sensible way to live this mad world is to fight for what you believe in, because let's face it, if it weren't for everyone fighting for what they believe is the correct way of the world, there wouldn't _be _pain and sadness and…insanity. Right? So that's the way _I _work. I'm not going to sit here and just decide to kill you, because…well…even though you _did _abandon me like all the others did, I know I can reason with you, and, uh…at least _connect _with you because of the terrible things that've happened to you recently. People like you…well, like _us_…who go through a _terrible _period in their lives that make them wanna _give up_ on everything…we deserve every sympathy in the world, but…nobody cares…because, mainly…of where we comes from. Our family. Who we hang out with. How much money we have. That's all we're judged on. Those other guys I killed because they didn't care about me…all they did was go around smoking weed and drinking every night. We don't need people like _that_ in the world, do we?"

"I guess not."

"No. They didn't care about me, _really_, so it gave me greater pleasure knowing _I _got rid of 'em personally, without a _care _in my body, makes me feel better. It showed them _just _what they did to me, cruelly, but that's the only way, that I know how, you see. It's different with you. Knowing you, trusted _me_, a known killer in this City with their problems, shows you're prepared to do something about it, no matter the danger and what you do to show your feelings. And your story is _so _upsetting. Terrible to know there are still criminals out there who aren't _true _criminal anarchists like The Joker."

"But The Joker–"

"Hang on, don't start badmouthing The Joker. He may be insane, but at least he's right."

"Right by killing hundreds of people?"

"If you knew The Joker's traumatic past you'd understand his anger on the world."

"Well how do _you _know about his past?"

"He told me about it."

"And you _believe _it?"

"I've even seen some of it."

"How?"

I sighed. "Ah, you'll know in good time, but…you understand what I'm saying, right?"

"In a way…"

"You _must_ know…" I took her weak hand in my strong gloved one. "You must know why I despise everything around me. I don't care if I come across as a psychotic monster…all I'm doing is what…I feel like I can only get a pleasure in life from."

"_Killing _people?"

"_Not just that_. Revenge. It's revenge on everything, Chelsea, you understand?! And you _know_…my mind is…is…"

"Schizophrenic?"

"Yes. _That_."

"It must be so awful for you. It...it's heart-breaking to have such a disease."

"It's nice to know _someone _understands," I said, in a sarcastic tone. "Most people just judge and come to their _own _conclusions."

"What do you expect, Jane?"

"I don't expect anything. I don't expect _any _sympathy, but why should I care, when _no one _cares about what's behind this mind of mine?"

She looked at me for a long time, with a jumbled expression of disgust, sympathy, and confusion.

"What…what's going on in it right now?" she asked, quietly.

"Well, it's on a constant beating, but I won't go into further details. Chelsea…I know this is very strange to you…"

"This is the weirdest situation I've ever been in."

"How come?"

"Because I don't know whether you're going to kill me or hug me right now. I don't know whether I should run a mile or listen to you."

"Think of it as…if you listen, I'll hug you. If you run a mile, I'll kill you, because all it takes is a little push and I can get _very _agitated. You don't want that."

"Is that a threat?"

"Yes, but more of a…uh…a request."

"So…what exactly do you want with me, then…_Jane_?"

"Getting angry, are we?"

"No!"

"What do I _want_?"

"Yes, why did you come here?"

"I came to make you understand."

"Understand what? Why you are this way?"

"A lot of things."

"As disturbing as you are, _just _like The Joker…what you say makes sense. I bet he taught you to do that."

"Nah, he doesn't tell me what to say. I say what I want to say. What is feel is…the _right _thing to say. Yeah?"

"Yeah…"

"Good."

"But…but what am I going to do?"

"About your stepfather?"

"Well, I _can't _do anything about that."

_Grab her, she's denying you._

I launched my hands at her, making her flinch backwards a mile, with a jarring squeal of shock, but I still managed to grab hold oh her collar, and drag her up to my face. I was still crossed-legged, but my strength was becoming more dominant than ever, so I didn't even need to move a muscle.

"Your stepfather…Edward, is his name, right?" I questioned, sharply.

"Y-Yeah…" Chelsea trembled.

"_Edward _would want you to do something about it," I announced, like it was the obvious truth. "Wouldn't, he…uh…want you to do something about those wrongdoers? Those _wannabe criminals _who think they're so clever and basically ruined your family? They're probably out _right now _laughing about it and you're just going to sit here and allow that, are you?" She bit her bottom lip with guilt, making me grin at her. "You'd do _anything _for your stepdad, right?" I asked, gently. "Even though he's not your real father, he's been there. You must be so grateful."

"I am!" she cried.

"As I was grateful to _my _father and thanks to the crime underworld I lost him!" I yelled. "But you know what? I did everything in my power to find him, because I wasn't going to sit there and accept my defeat, you know, Chelsea. Hmm? Even if it meant doing the most terrible things to get answers, and guess what that led to? Huh?" I nodded, excitedly, sniggering unstoppably. "I _found _him!"

"Did you?" Chelsea said, her eyes growing larger.

"Yes! It all paid off, and he was _so _proud of me!" I laughed. "He wasn't dead, I swear to god! Wouldn't Edward be _proud_ if you tried to help him?"

"By…by…showing….they're liars?"

"Mm-hmm."

"But how?"

"Wouldn't _you _like to know?"

"Well–"

"Look how happy I am right now, now I'm gaining my revenge on the people who are responsible for making me this way? Nobody wants to do things the cruel way but sometimes there isn't a choice. People like _that_, who ruined a family with nothing but lies, don't they deserve a taste of their own medicine?"

"It would show them exactly what they did to us."

"We live in such a messed up world. No wonder _my _head is so _messed _up, but I like it, I like it! My mind knows what to do, although sometimes it drives me crazy. Someone like myself and The Joker, mentally unstable people…who's…insanity is questioned by society…as soon as we kill someone, or…blow something up because we can't stand the sight of something…everyone calls us evil. Murderous. Wretched. _Psychos_. But…if an average lowlife criminal just simply steals, or…frames someone for fraud…for a _non-specific _example…" I chuckled. "Nobody cares, because _that's _just how the world works. _That's _what I hate about the world so much. That's why The Joker hates money, you see, because it's worthless to someone like him."

"The Joker isn't really a criminal, though, is he? He's a psychopa–"

"And _that's why_…people judge. I'm not…one of those, though. I'm just…"

"I think I understand," she said, impatiently. "You kill people who are nothing to you because you're angry at the world and see no reason for them to live. That's what right in _your _abnormal mind, no offence."

"That's right."

"But…_I_ don't…_hate _the world. I just _hate_ those men who did that to my dad."

"I don't blame you. _I_ hate them and they've done _nothing_ to me. I'm just annoyed they can get away with that, something which I would never do, mind you, and then as soon as _I_ do something…_so _tiny, such as ending a worthless life…the world goes _crazy_ tracking me down. Everything The Joker's taught me is _right_."

"As mad as you are, you're _so _right."

"Of course I'm right, honey."

"You're…you're not going to…"

"What?"

"Wait. Are you for _real_?"

"Well, I _am _real, aren't I?"

"So do the press over-exaggerate when they say things like you've killed over twenty people in a week and stuff? And you've tortured children?"

"No. It's _all _true."

"But…"

"What?!"

"I don't understand you, pal…"

"_Pal_, is it now? So are we _friends_?"

"Well, we were always friends, but…"

"Hmm. What don't you understand, Chelsea?"

"You…you seem too _sane_. You make too much sense. It's so weird, I…I don't know. This…this seems like it's all a trick. For someone who's a…serial killer–"

"You'll find it's people like _me _who make more sense than _anyone_!" I hissed. "I'm not here to mess you around," I lied. "I came to give you sense. If you wanna avenge your stepfather, because even _I _feel your pain and your anger, and _I _should know because I've felt it…a great deal, and it ain't nice. All I'm saying is, uh…that if you want to get your own back…then you _should_, and I'll help you."

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me."

Chelsea giggled a little, making me finally loosen my grip, and she toppled over, back into the fence.

"Haven't you noticed something?" I sighed, gazing into the heavens, breaking into my possessed voice again.

"What?" she said, nervously.

"It's always men."

"What do mean?"

"I mean, I'm not sexist or anything, believe it or _not_…it's _double _everything I've just talked about if it's a _woman_, you know? Because, _oh_…a woman doing it seems _so_ much more of an abomination than a _guy _doing all these things! Right?!"

"Well, yeah."

"No wonder Commissioner Gordon was _soft _with me when we met eye to eye. Saying I need _help _before I go _really _crazy. He's only saying that because he feels _sorry _for me because I'm a _girl_ and in such a _state_."

"You just said _no one _feels sorry for you."

"Shut up. Anyway, I'm _bored _of talking and _explaining_. Let's go."

I leaped onto my feet, letting my gun swing by my leg. I looked at Chelsea, expectantly, but she remained glued to the fence. I noticed her legs were trembling, along with her wet eyelashes battering, uncomfortably.

"W-Where?" Chelsea stuttered. "Go where?"

"To get started of _course_," I snapped.

"Started on what?"

"I didn't think you were stupid, Archer. I always thought you were a smart girl. What have I just talked about for a good ten minutes? Because you know me, I _always _have to talk so much."

"Society," she answered.

"What _else_?" I demanded.

"Revenge?"

"Well done! Now, come on, Chelsea. My partner in crime at the moment, Ivy, is waiting in a van, and I don't wanna keep her waiting. She got some sorta…special weapon she's so _desperate _to show me."

Chelsea eventually staggered on her flat shoes, and wobbled before standing upright. She viciously wiped a black tear from underneath her eyes.

"Jane…I…I don't understand."

I groaned quietly, sauntering up to her to her tear-sticky face. She didn't move, but continued to fixate her eyes on my painted features. She was somewhat scowling, but at the same time I saw the pleading filling up her eyes.

"You care about your stepfather more than anything, hmm?" I said, softly, attempting to sound encouraging.

"Of course," she whimpered, inhaling deeply. "He may be my stepdad but he's practically my dad. He's been there, and now he's not here, and I–"

"Alright, I get it. You know, I didn't know what to think when I first got your messages but I am so pleased you contacted me. Shows you really trust me, huh?"

"But I didn't know you were Princess Jane."

"There's still parts of Shaylee in Jane, you know. They're miniscule, but they're there, at least. We didn't _ask _to be plummeted into lives of hell, did we? And as we've been through these times, I think it's only better to help each other. So… are you going to sit in this park forever feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to do something about it?" Chelsea stayed silent. "Edward would appreciate you avenging him. Right?" Chelsea nodded. "There's no chance of rewinding the past now. Another thing I've had to learn, babe, is to always be switched on for the next terrible thing that pops around the corner. Imagine how much this is killing your family right now."

"Shut up."

"So _traumatised_ because Edward isn't coming back for ages because of low-class _criminals_."

"Shut up!" she cried.

"So _unfair _that they're still _living _and _laughing _about it while you cry every day!" I cackled.

"_Shut UP_!" she screamed, rocketing a fist at me, but thanks to my snappy brain, I instantly grabbed her wrist to prevent a blow to my face.

Chelsea squealed in shock and with one push, I had her against the fence again. Quite wisely, she didn't bother to fight my grasp.

"Someone's getting angry now the _truth's _being poured onto her," I growled. "Isn't _that _funny, huh? I _know _you hate those men. Do you hate those men?"

"Of course I do!" she yelled. "I hate them with every part of me!"

"Would it make you feel better to make them feel terrible?"

"Yes!"

"To make them…uh, how do I put this? Uh…oh I don't know. Make them feel the _pain_ they've caused?!"

"Yes!"

"I'm giving you this opportunity to face 'em."

"I can't just go out and shoot a load of men! I'm not strong enough, unlike you!"

"Oh, so you saying you _would _do it, now?"

"Well…well…I…I-I…"

"Hmm?!"

"Well I wouldn't care!"

"That's good to know. _No one _should care about those low-class criminals. I don't. That's why I'm going to help you."

"But why?!"

"Revenge of men, taking advantage of women once again."

"How are they–?!"

"Hurting you and mom's feelings." I grinned wider. "Aw…thinking it's _so _funny to break you and your mom by doing that to Edward! Ha!"

"It's not funny!"

"I know it's not. That's why I'm not laughing."

"You're still smiling about it!"

"I'm smiling…at the fact you're so _willing_."

"But haven't you forgotten something?! I'm no sort of criminal. Sure, when I was with Tom I helped him steal things sometimes and I've had _so _many fist fights in school which you saw yourself, but that doesn't mean I can go and take on some men in the street."

"Who said you had to use your fists, Chelsea?"

"No one, but still!"

"Are you scared, huh? Scared you're gonna let your dad down? Is _that _it?!"

"Well…yeah."

"So you _are _prepared to fight injustice?"

"Fight injustice? More like just take my anger out on them!"

"So I'm right all along."

"Yes, you are."

"You're _so _wise."

"But I'm only doing this for my dad."

"And for your own pleasure."

"No…"

"Yes. You'll see…getting rid of 'em, it'll make you feel _so _much better. You won't _cry _every day knowing you've got rid of 'em."

"When…when you say get rid of them…do you mean…?"

"What do you _think _I mean?"

"I know you want me to kill them."

"That's what guns are for."

"But I can't do _that_!"

"Why not? You'll be with me, who's practically an expert at pleasurable revenge now, honey."

"But…I can't imagine myself…"

"Trust me. Don't question it."

"But–"

"Like you insist, you're doing this for your father. Look what _I've _done avenging my father."

"Terrible things."

"To typical society, yes, but to me, it's made me much happier, and I don't care what _you _think."

"But…what about my mom?"

"What about her?"

"What if I end up killing someone and she finds out?"

I smirked, loosening my grip on my wrist.

"That's where I can help," I explained, gently. "Who says Chelsea Archer will kill someone?"

"Oh, I get it. You want me to dress up and pretend to be someone else, like under some other name so the police won't know it's me?"

"Very good. Ivy can help you with that. She'll help you."

"I can't believe this."

"What?"

Her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "I could _die_!" she exclaimed.

"I know you, Chels," I said, refusing to give up. "You've always been a…a _loyal_ and, uh…_passionate_ friend of mine. I _know _you're passionate about your family, and you'd risk your life trying to avenge them."

"It just seems…so…"

"So sudden?"

"Yeah, but…you sure I'll feel good about this? I know it's sort of the right thing to do, but I _know _I won't feel good about–"

"If you don't, then it'll only prove you're thinking _twice_ about loving your family."

"That's not _true_," she snarled.

"Those scumbags are worth _nothing_, right, hon?" I asked again, constantly drilling the phrase into her skull.

"Of course they're not," she scoffed.

"They deserve to die."

"Well…"

"They…deserve…to _die_."

"Well, they deserve to be punished for what they've done at _least_."

"Hmm, actually…I like that word _better_. Punished. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, Chelsea."

"But…after this…I'm not doing anymore. I'm kicking those scumbags' asses, and then I'm going to try and get my dad out of Blackgate when I prove them wrong in some way or another, and that's it."

"Fair enough, but you may change your mind when you realise the pleasure behind it."

"It's only pleasure for _you_ because…b-because…"

"Hmm? Because what? Because I'm a serial killer, love? Oh, no, I wouldn't go _that_ far. You better be prepared, however, because it's going to be one hell of a journey." Chelsea groaned in a hesitant manner, and started shuffling her feet. "It'll be fun," I insisted, starting to walk away from her. "And by the end of it, you'll see what I mean about the darkness of the world. You'll understand everything that goes on my mind for _real_. _I'm _worth more than people like that."

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"If I'm as about as stubborn as you are, of course not." I swiftly turned my back on her, and started slowly walking towards the gate of the secluded park. When I heard no footsteps behind me, my sudden anger made me bolt my head back round at Chelsea, who had managed to shuffle a few steps forward, but her feet became stapled to the ground again. Her hair fell in front of her face, as her head dropped to stare at her fumbling feet, a look of regret starting to spread across her pretty features. "What's the _matter_, Chelsea?" I asked, nicely, even though I could feel the fire on the tips of my fingers. "Scared?" She shook her head. "Then aren't you coming to do what's right?" Chelsea remained silent. I sighed. "I know how you feel, it's the early stages of depression," I said, before pausing for a while to take in her reluctant expression. I saw a tear fall down her face, when she finally looked up at me. "Tell you what," I finally suggested. "Because I'm in good mood today, because I'm recovering so remarkably from The Joker's recent attack on me…I'll give you an offer. How's about it?" Chelsea said nothing. "If you _really _want to prove yourself, and by that, I mean…uh, _fighting _for what's right…in other words…Edward…and to top it all of…getting your mind _completely _free of your _thug _ex Tom…then…come and see me in an exactly hour's time, at…ooh, do you have the time now?"

Chelsea quickly looked at the green watch on her wrist.

"Eleven thirteen," she mumbled.

"So at thirteen minutes past twelve…you come to, uh…it's this little abandoned house on this abandoned road, just outside the main part of the City, you know where I mean? It's called Elizabeth Avenue, if I recall correctly. A load of old houses that no one lives there anymore, because they're falling apart, except the one on the very end, with a van parked outside it. It had loads of plants and flowers around it. You'll find it eventually. In fact, it's only a twenty minute drive from here…if you're speedy. Come to that house in an hour if you want to be wise. If you decide you want to sit and cry forever…then don't bother, but that wouldn't be a smart choice. You see, I _hate _people wasting my time. I _hate _it when people let me down. So I'll find you…and it won't be pretty my _friend_. You _will _die…oh you'll die without any sympathy from me. But don't just come to that address because you're scared to die, come because you _actually _want to do what's right, because I'll know if you're not prepared. You understand, babe?" Chelsea still remained silent, twitching her fingers, anxiously. "I said…do you _understand_?!" I yelled, demonically.

"Yes!" she cried, sounding determined. "I understand perfectly!"

"Good. I hope to see you later, chick," I giggled, starting to walk away, gripping my gun tightly. "And remember, Chelsea, I've been to your house before!" I sung, just before I opened the gate. "So don't think I'm not gonna keep my word! And if you're not there, then it'll be even _more _fun for me! Brutal for you, but fun for me. Be smart, Chels! And be smart! Remember your stepdad, and what he's going through right now! And remember, I'm not as crazy as the world thinks, and I've _proved _it to you!"

With that, I slammed the gate behind me as I left Chelsea alone to deliberate her decision.

Although walking back to the van grinning insanely, I couldn't help but feel the anger starting to stream through my blood, because my mind was telling me I was failing, but doing the right thing at the same time. However, like I said, I hate wasting my time with people who don't cooperate. The adrenaline was pumping through me during that whole confrontation as I believed I was succeeding in making Chelsea believe in what I had been taught my entire life, but in those last few moments when she hesitated and didn't follow me, looking like the depressant that she was at that moment, the dangerous frustration started to rise up within me. I knew it was better to devise a quick conclusion to sort the situation out, and storm away before my mind made me attack Chelsea, no matter how cruel and cold-hearted the threat to get Chelsea on my side was.

I knew that there was a strong chance Chelsea would turn up to Ivy's house later on, but the paranoia made me steer in the negative direction.

Damn you, schizophrenia.

When I returned to the van, without luckily being spotted by the few people dotted around the streets, I scrambled in, and strapped myself in hurriedly. I sighed and glanced to my right, where Ivy was staring at me, wide-eyed, holding that glass of bleak liquid again in her palm.

"Oh, hello," she said, placing the glass in her pocket.

"Back to your place, _now_," I ordered.

"Okay," Ivy said, strapping herself in and revving the van up. "So…how'd it go? Where's this so-called friend of yours?"

"Meeting us at your place in an hour," I explained, smiling, rolling my window down. "Hopefully," I added, leaning out of the window, like a dog.

"How come?" Ivy asked, reversing the van.

"Long story short, doc, I gave her a choice," I said, slowly. "Either she meets us at your place, or I go and kill her tonight."

"Ooh, okay. Why, what's up with her? What's happening?"

I explained everything in detail to Ivy as we sped through the streets. She listened carefully, and the whole time she had this devious grin on her lips, like she was almost proud of what I'd done. She was even smiling when I explained Chelsea's dilemma. Ivy was nodding her head as I ranted about how much I loathe 'typical thugs', unlike somebody like The Joker and I.

We may have been criminals, but we weren't typical thugs. The Joker was a psychopathic anarchist, who killed criminals and crime bosses just for fun, because he's unable to control himself. I knew he also saw himself as superior in the crime underworld, because of his intelligence, he could outwit crime bosses and show even _their _weaker, more pathetic sides to the work.

It was almost like my father had no weakness.

I don't even think I was his weakness anymore, despite telling me he would never kill me, because it's my duty to stay the way I am.

It hurt me knowing he wouldn't care if I was killed.

Just as Ivy and I were leaving the main part of the City, by that I mean the most densely populated area, sneaking the van out of a junction that lead to the quieter streets, where Ivy's abandoned house was located in the most abandoned part, I spotted a rabid street fight taking place on the corner of the road, between three 'average thugs'.

"Ivy, stop the van!" I hissed, snickering under my breath.

"I think I know what you mean," she giggled back, staring at the fight I was pointing to. She pulled over, right up to the edge of the street, where the amusing display of fighting was taking place. "Seems to me like they're _showing off_," Ivy laughed, as she turned the engine off.

"Are they deaf, do you reckon?" I cackled, throwing my seatbelt behind me and grabbing my gun by my feet. "Can't even see a pretty lady when they see it!"

By now one guy was backed up against the street lamp, the other two, like playground bullies, were on the floor, one laying on his back, and the other smashing his fist into the other's face.

"Ooh!" Ivy and I jeered, before giggling nastily again.

"Wait, guys, knock it off!" the gut standing up yelled.

Like a movie that had just been paused, all three of them froze. Ivy unclipped her belt off, rolling her window down, and leaning out of the window to talk to them. I scrambled over my seat, so I was poking my head out of the same window too, keeping my weight on my knees on the passenger seat, leaning over Ivy's legs, and resting my chin on my arms dangling over the window.

"Yeah, you're right, Ivy," I said, grinning and nodding. "Looks like they _are _just showing off. Why so serious, boys? What's up with you lot? This isn't any way to settle a situation?"

They quickly assembled into a line upon hearing my psychotic 'feminine' voice, the injured guy being pushed back onto the floor by them both. Ivy and I doubled up with laughter.

"What do you _want_?" the shortest one demanded.

"Nothin' baby, just came to watch the show," Ivy chuckled.

"What show?" he snapped.

"There's nothing here for you two dopey ladies," the other added, snorting into laughter. "Don't butt in, thinking you're badass with your costumes. Go back to your costume party shopping."

"That is _so _rude," Ivy laughed.

"_So_ disrespectful to women," I told Ivy, grinning. "Happens all the time."

"What do you want, anyway, sexy?" the second man suddenly leered. The other guy hit his arm and grunted. "What? They _are_."

"Wow, I'm only seventeen, you pervert!" I laughed.

"Hang on a minute…" the man on the floor started to say.

"Shut up, faggot!" the tall guy yelled.

"No, wait!" he persisted. "Isn't that Princess Jane?!"

"Aw!" I squealed. "He knows who I am!"

The other two men darted their head towards me, making the identical expression. At first, their faces were filled with shock, then panic and then…they both grinned.

"Oh my god, you're right!" one of them laughed.

"_Still _no one knows who _I_ am," Ivy complained, under her breath.

"Yet," I added. I licked my lips with anticipation as I lifted my gun through the window and pointed it towards them, when I saw the shorter man start to lift his own gun up towards us. "Now's the chance to use this secret weapon of yours," I whispered to Ivy. "Do it _now_."

"Okay, but you're gonna have to get me out of the van," she hissed.

I moved away instantly, and Ivy leaped out of the van as the door flew open for her. I sat in the driver seat, still keeping my gun pointed towards them. Ivy took small steps to the side, where from the corner of my eye, saw he dig into her back pockets.

"Too scared to shoot me, huh?!" I taunted the man with the gun, still not moving from the seat. I followed the instructions of my pounding mind. "What you got against _me_, anyway, idiot?!"

"Everyone's after you!" he declared. "I may as well finish it off!"

"You won't if I do _this_!"

I screamed with laughter as I escaped a bullet from my gun, with once again masterful aim, as he collapsed onto the floor, his head crashing onto the street lamp as he fell. His life ended immediately. His friend soon joined him, as I shot him dead before he could make a move on me.

The man who had been on the floor started to scamper away from the dead bodies. I didn't realise Ivy's quickness, as she suddenly leaped on him, straddling him against the floor with her legs wrapped around him. I dashed out of the seat to witness the action. Ivy had revealed that perfume bottle of dreary liquid again, and was forcing it into the man's stammering face, as she leaned over him. Behind her red hair, I saw there was a seductive smile on her face.

Then she did something with made me leap in shock.

She slammed her lips onto the man's, while his eyes widened, but in no time closed and soon they were in a whirl of passionate kissing. I heard Ivy chuckling into his lips, as he sat up. I wanted to look away, but for some reason I couldn't. There was something incredible about seeing this. How a man can subdue himself to a woman he's just met that quickly.

I knew there was going to be a catch coming up, and there was.

When they both came up for air, Ivy whispered, "That was nice." Then she lifted the bottle, and with a nasty grin, she pushed the button on top, and soon the liquid came squirting out. The man, whose lips were smeared in Ivy's red lipstick, coughed and writhed underneath. He gasped for air, quite violently. His coughs became louder, until he was gasping for breath, clawing onto Ivy's shirt, trying to regain strength. His eyes fluttered shut, until his head jolted aggressively, and soon his head crashed onto the floor, and he was motionless.

Ivy laughed, before sighing happily and lifting herself to her feet, and facing me, who was open-mouthed. I stifled a cruel giggle.

"Impressed by me now?" she asked, making her way back to the van.

I followed her, skipping around to the passenger's seat. We both reclaimed our seats, slamming the doors and buckling ourselves in.

"What the _fuck _did I just see?" I laughed, straightening my hair and tiara.

"Magic," she replied. "My weapon."

"Does killing perfume really count as a weapon?"

"Of course it does, and it's not _killing_, actually. That guy isn't dead, he's just asleep. He'll be asleep for a good few hours. When he wakes up, he won't remember the last twenty-four hours. Baby, he'll be _totally _freaked out!"

"So how does that work?" I questioned, gobsmacked. "It's…it's unbelievable. How did you make that?"

"I'll tell you when we get back to my place," she said. "We need to get outta here before we're caught, chicken."

"You're right. Drive."

Ivy explained this complicated situation when we returned. She made me a cup of coffee (and offered me painkillers, but I refused, because I actually felt barely any pain in my side anymore), as we sat in her kitchen together.

She explained that learning things when she was training as a doctor, she learned all these kind of poisonous formulas. Using her amazing intellect, she crushed these poisons into liquids, which she could use when she started a life of crime, due to having no money. The toxins made from…some big long words I can't remember…are used in these perfume bottles she has to fool people. Some have more destructive poisons than others, which cab kill a person. Others, like the one she used on that victim, can make them pass out and wake up with very short-term amnesia.

Ivy had come up with this when she was just Pamela. Apparently Harley had encouraged her to start using them when she was part of my dad and Harley's gang a few years back, and they became best friends one night when they robbed a bank to get some sort of diamond, without my dad. From then on, they were Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy.

"You have to let me use some," I requested, after the story was over. "It could really be helpful to, uh…to…influence my prey. Or even my partners in crime. Like Chelsea."

"I'll only let you use it if ya careful, sugar," Ivy said. "I've let Harley use them but I gave her a drug so she's immune to 'em."

"Is that even possible?"

"Well, I did it."

"Fucking hell, you're smart. Is there even a drug that makes you immune to poisons?"

"Well, there's something called an implant that makes you immune to pregnancy, so I thought, why not create one for poisons as well?"

"And you _did that_?" Ivy nodded. "Oh my god."

"I can give you that drug if you feel it's best, honey," Ivy said, giving me a wink.

"It won't mess with my…my…you know…that stupid _thing_ in my head?"

"Well, it's worked for Harley and she's in a lot worse state than you."]

"I guess you're right."

"I wonder if Harley's managed to get out of Arkham yet."

"If she does, we'll definitely find out because everybody will be after her, like they are me. Chase will find a way, he's not stupid. He just needs a kick in the ass and he'll be fine. He _can _do things for himself. He's just used to me and his mom holding his hand all the time, and he hasn't learnt to let go. _I've _let go of him, though."

"It doesn't sound like it."

"I _have_!" I bellowed.

"Okay, calm down, I'm sorry, Jane." There was an awkward silence, before Ivy continued, changing the subject. "Yeah, what was that guy on about before, anyway? How everyone's after you? I hope he doesn't mean everyone's trying to _kill_ you."

"I don't care if they're trying to kill me. Losing my dad can't kill me anymore than a bullet being ripped through my heart, because _that _did it enough. I'll kill them first before they lay a finger on me, anyway, _much _more painfully than I'll ever feel. I can't feel pain anymore because I've felt too much to feel _any _now."

"You sound like a preacher when you talk."

"It's a habit. I get it from my father."

"You have a lot of your father's ways."

"You _think_?" I sighed, sadly, staring into the distance. "I miss him, still, sometimes."

"You'll see The Joker again in no time."

"No, I mean…" I sighed again. "Jack. I miss Jack. I miss Jack and Shaylee sometimes. You know, the _proper_ father and daughter team. Not _all_ the time, but…the _good_ times…I miss them. I can't think of my past too much now, because Joker and Jane are here _now_, and they're, like…the Hyde's to Jack and Shaylee's Jekyll's. Hyde is more of an interesting character than Jekyll, though. Everyone knows that." I managed a Shaylee smile at Ivy, and she showed me, what I believed to be her Pamela smile, but of course, Jane came back to my system, almost immediately. "Ivy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"What was the whole kissing thing about?" I asked, dismissing Shaylee for the moment.

"Ah, I do it all the time," Ivy explained. "To all my victims."

"Women as well?"

"God, yeah, women as well."

"I _knew _you were gay," I laughed.

"I'm not gay. I'm bisexual, but I prefer men."

"Yeah, I didn't say there was anything _wrong _with that, did I?"

"But yeah, men in particular, they're all horny bastards, they _all _fall for that kind of muck. That's why being seductive works sometimes. Just a little tip for you, Princess Jane."

"I'll…I'll keep that in mind."

There was sudden thunderous knock at the door, making us both jump. I launched off my seat to answer it, noticing in the hall, the clock read fourteen minutes past twelve. It was a minute overdue, but I could live with that.

I swung the door open and there stood Chelsea, no longer teary eyed. Her hair was clipped back, but she had a blank face.

"Hi," she said, flatly.

"Oh, hello, Chelsea," I grinned. "You're late."

"No, I'm not. Can I come in?"

"Of course."

She stepped in and wiped her shoes on the carpet, before making them soar off her feet, as she flipped them off. She sighed and faced me again, as I carefully shut the door.

"It took me ages to find this place," she said. "Thought I'd never find it. I was so worried."

"It doesn't matter, you're here now. I'm so glad you did."

"Me…me too."

"So…you _are _prepared to…?"

"I thought about what you said, and although I was so scared of you…and shocked at the fact, you know…_you _are Princess Jane Price…I…I did think about everything you said. I talked to my mom last night about all that's been going on and you know what she said? 'Chelsea, we're going to have to live with it. I don't want to risk getting into trouble by doing something about it. We can't do anything.' She made me believe that was the truth. I don't understand how you…_you_…can overrule what my mom said. I realised you were right. I'm petrified…it's…it's making my life hell…and you were right. I don't want to cry about it for so long. I have to stand up and prove he was wrongly accused of something he never did, and they just did it for their own horrible pleasure. I don't wanna put up with that! I want to do something about it! And if…if you're prepared to help me, then…then that's good. But…you have to promise me…"

"What?"

"You _do _have to help me, you can't just…you know…I don't want this to all be a trick and for you to end up killing me because I couldn't _bare _it if you–"

"Chelsea! This is no trick. I'm serious. You really think I would _kill _you?"

"Well, yeah, because…because…"

"What?"

"Because…you _did _say–"

"Look, I may be starting to kill people on a daily basis, but that doesn't mean I'm going to kill _you_, babe! I only kill worthless people. You're _not _worthless. You've just proven that, because you're actually doing what's right. It may be the dangerous, and the hardest way…but at least you're _prepared _to."

"Oh, so is _this_ Chelsea?" a chocolate voice came behind us.

Ivy had made her way into the hallway, and Chelsea eyed her up and down, but surprisingly smiled up at her.

"I am," she responded.

"Yeah, Chelsea, this is Poison Ivy," I introduced.

"Just call me Ivy, sweetie," Ivy said, in a husky voice.

Chelsea and I managed to glance at each other and splutter into laughter."

"Anyway, are you the woman who can get me a costume?" Chelsea then asked, shocking me.

"Sure, I have plenty of spare clothes upstairs," Ivy said. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Sort of," Chelsea replied. "But we'll see. The thing I'm scared of most is my mom finding out I'm doing this. She's go _mad_. That's why I have to change my appearance and my name. Isn't that why you guys do it?"

"In a way," I said, grinning, itching my adrenaline-throbbing fingers. "It's more complicated with us, you see, but you'll soon understand."

"Come on then," Ivy beckoned, literally starting to pull her up the stairs.

As Chelsea followed Ivy up the stairs, I called after her, "What _is _your new name, anyway, sweetheart?"

"Tell you in a minute!" she called back.

They disappeared into Ivy's upstairs interior, and I sauntered back into the kitchen, taking a jug of my stone-cold cup of coffee, until just millilitres were swimming at the bottom. I chucked it into the sink, and then took a seat on the table, in front of the small television. I stared at my reflection, stroking my finger across my painted face. I stroked my crimson bob, and caressed my new skirt, soothingly.

I sighed, lovingly, at my smug expression.

"Oh, Jane, what _have _you done?" I whispered to myself. "Just what twisted thing have you done _now_?" I laughed, loudly. "Oh, Chelsea, you _are_ a good friend after all. This Edward guy sounds like a right softie douchebag. She's not even her real dad! Ha, I wonder who it is? Maybe it's someone I've _killed _along the way! Ha! That'd be funny! How many people _is _it now, anyway? Uh…Tom, Chris, Matty, Alex, Jason…three cab drivers…that makes eight people…Kayley, nine, Andre, ten, Ruby, eleven…Larry…uhh…that guy at the bar…uh, uh…oh damn it, _I _can't remember! How many people is it?" My reflection, didn't answer, despite it starting to morph into what looked like mom's face. "And _yes_, I have done it fairly, mom, you may not believe it, but I did, and don't blame dad like you _always _do. It's not _his _fault he's schizophrenic, it's not _his _fault he gave it you me. It _is_, however, _your _fault that you neglected me and chose to drink. Oh, if only you were alive, I could change your ways right now and make you a better _mother_!" My yell bounced off the walls for a slight moment, as O scowled at mom in the TV. "I wish I _didn't _look like you. Yes, you were beautiful, which makes me…sort of pretty…but…it wouldn't remind dad, I mean…_The Joker _of you, would it?" I looked down and giggled at myself fumbling with my fingers. "Every time he sees me, he sees you, as well…I wish he didn't have to. I hope you're having a good party in heaven, anyway, mommy. It's hell right back here on earth. Thanks to me. No wonder you wanted me aborted, eh? I _am _a devil child. Literally. They talk to me all the time. It's not _my _fault." I shrugged and flopped my arms beside me, shaking my head to get the hallucination away. "Well, nobody's perfect, right?" I climbed off the table and began pacing around the kitchen. "No. Nobody's perfect. Everyone has that anger and frustration at the back of their mind's but it just takes a series of bad days before it's exploded. I think Chelsea's getting to that stage. Oh, daddy, I do hope you're okay in Arkham. I hope they're not jamming needles into you and trying to make you see the self-righteous views of Harvey Dent's cronies."

I then sat back down, and gazed at the table before me, squinting my eyes to see the wood on the table dance slightly to the side, before joining back up. I stroked it, before gripping onto the end.

_Aren't you sick of just lying around?_

"Yes," I grunted, scrunching my eyes shut.

_Get up and kill you worthless princess._

"_No_…" I hissed. "Go _away_. Not yet, you fucking demons. Your problem is you have no patience."

_Come on, Jane, there's not much time before the whole city tries to kill you_.

"Shut _up_!" I groaned, burying my face into my hands. "I hate you."

_No, you don't. You hate the world, and __**yourself**__._

"Shut up!" I said, my voice having a sharper edge.

I clattered my head against the table, repeatedly, to make the voice disappear. I grunted loudly, clutching onto my head and breathing heavily to try and make it through the panic attack.

Thankfully, the voices died down, until the voices became almost inaudible, but I could still hear them nattering at the back of my mind.

Even though the panic attack wasn't a long one, I remained in that position for what seemed like an hour, my forehead stuck to the table, with my hands gripping onto the top of my head. I wanted to scream when I felt a small tear start welling up in my eyes.

It was all mom's fault I started to cry.

"Jane?"

I shot my head up when I voice came around. I was prepared to quickly sort myself out, but I didn't need to when I saw it was Chelsea, dressed up in some of Ivy's old threads. Ivy came up behind her and stood next to her. Chelsea's blonde hair was now swept up in short. messy pigtails.

"What you think?" Ivy asked. "Can we go now? I'm sick of being in here. Today just proved how much I've missed using my toxins."

"Wait a minute," I said to Ivy, examining Chelsea's outfit, made up of yellow and green vertical-striped pants, a dark green top with a giant yellow question mark printed on it, and tall, green boots. My eyes widened, but I couldn't help but smirk. "Was this all of _your _clothes once, Ivy?" I asked her, chuckling.

"Found them at the back of her closet," Chelsea explained. "She said these were her clothes years ago when she was our age. I quite like them. Not something I'd usually wear, but it's okay."

"Are you comfortable?" I inquired.

"No, not really," Chelsea said. "But it's okay. Like I said, it's just so my family don't find out I'm doing this. Just call me Enigma."

I raised an eyebrow. "Enigma?" I repeated. "Unusual."

"Well, why are _you _called Princess Jane Price?" she asked, cheekily, putting her hand on her hip.

"Princess was what my dad used to call me," I explained, my 'Jane' voice escaping again. "Jane was Shaylee's middle name, as it was my mother's…and Price, well…it's ironic, because I'm _not _rich. Hmm?"

"Do you know what enigma means?" Chelsea asked, now starting to tremble with surprising excitement. I shook my head, even though I did know what it meant. "Enigma is a type of riddle, like my stepdad uses in his quizzes," Chelsea explained. "I thought it was clever."

"Certainly leaves you _questionable_," I joked.

"It kinda sounds like my stepdad's last name anyway. Nygma. I wanted to chamge my name to that but mom says I have to stick to Archer."

"Well not anymore!" I jeered. "Ivy, these…toxins…of yours. Can Chels –_Enigma _and I have some? If we're going to go and hunt down these little thugs, we'll need something."

"Can't you just use a gun, sweetie?" Ivy asked.

"I _could…_but…just in case," I said, batting my eyelashes at her.

"Fine, okay," Ivy said, reluctantly. "I'll give both of you that anti-toxin drug, as well. Plus, I've got a mask upstairs. If we wanna keep your identity hidden, Enigma, we better cover your face with _something_."

Ivy swiftly left the room and made her way back upstairs. Enigma looked back at me, with a puzzled look.

"Toxins?" she enquired.

"Tell you later," I said. "So, this…_Frank_ and his friends…do you know where they'll be?"

"Well, in my neighbourhood, you know the one in the middle of Gotham City, that scummy avenue place where there are few bars?" I nodded. "Thugs tend to hang around in these alleyways to smoke marijuana. There's a small one near this big bank, I can imagine those lot hanging around there late at night to devise the next family they're going to ruin."

I laughed loudly. "Someone's changed their tune!" I chimed, triumphantly.

"What? I'm only doing this to put things right, and if I have to do it the hard way, then…I have to do it the hard way. You will help me get him out of Blackgate Prison, won't you?"

"Of course, sounds like fun," I started sauntering towards her, who was now folding her arms. "It will be a good opportunity for, uh…me to do what _I _do best…and you, letting your stepfather free."

"Why do you make so much _sense_?"

"Because I know this world back to front, inside out. I _know _it with every inch of me, because all my life I've been ruined from the way of this stupid City. I'm not stupid, you know, and I think it's about time, _other _people start realising the truth. The Joker's taught me a lot of things, and _not _things like how to slit someone's throat. He knows the world better than anyone, even if he _is _a psychotic freak. And I'm not lying. You get it?"

"Yeah."

"You ever used a gun before?"

"Not properly. I have held on in my hand, though, but it was just because it was Tom's and I threw it out of the house."

"They feel good it hold." Enigma shrugged. "You'll see," I added.

"If it gets too much, I won't do it."

"Nothing's too much when you're with me, Enigma."

"It's annoying how right you are, and it's also annoying how convincing you are, you know, for someone who supports and insane man like The Joker."

"You wonder _why _I support him."

"Why?"

"Come sit down, I'll tell you."

I led Enigma over to the table, where we sat opposite each other. She still had her arms folded, but, like me, she couldn't keep her unsteady nerves under control, making her squirm frantically in her seat. I saw the frightened twinkle in her eyes.

_You have control, Jane_, they sneered.

I smirked at this fact, and got myself comfortable to invest my own mind into Enigma's even more.

I started by telling her the story of my scar patterned on my left shoulder.

* * *

_**And there we have it. Chelsea is Enigma. For those who don't know, Enigma in the DC universe is the Riddler's daughter (though whether she is biologically I don't know), but she is also the best friend of schizophrenic Duela Dent, who PJ is loosely based on. Of course, Enigma's backstory I made up, but there you, go there's the interesting facts :D **_


	25. I Am The Joker's Daughter

_**PLEASE NOTE: This chapter is heavy with dark content, as usual, but this one has A LOT. Throughout, a lot of dark and disturbing stuff. Particularly towards the end, and includes sexual content and references (but again, no in depth analysis of sex or something). So you have been warned.**_

_**Please, please, please, leave a review if you can, giving feedback and/or constructive criticism, as they much appreciated for future chapters!**_

* * *

**Chapter 24 - I Am The Joker's Daughter**

"So…so…The Joker…is your dad?" Enigma gasped, after the third story I had told her.

"Indeed," I said, sliding my tongue through my tasty ulcers inside my mouth. The room became soundless. Enigma and I stared at each other with beady eyes. Her mouth was gaped. "Lost for words, Enigma?" I asked.

"Well…" she whispered. "I just…it's just…"

"Do you understand everything now?" I inquired. "You understand why I support him? It's not because I'm crazy. It's because he's my farther, and he's the only thing I this cold-blooded girl has left. Right?!"

She shook her head in disbelief, but still replied, "Yeah…"

"If you tell anyone, you're dead," I snarled, rising to my feet. "I'll tell people in my own time, but you must understand, The Joker taught me _everything_, because he's my father, and I follow that, because it's all I ever know. Get it?"

"Yeah," she mumbled.

"Now, shall we get going?" I asked, enthusiastically. Enigma didn't move. "Come _on_, now Niggy, you're the one who came here to do something about _saving _your stepdad."

"I know."

"So come on. I'm sick of sitting around. I miss the action." I waltzed towards the door, kicking it open. I looked back at a motionless Enigma. "Come _on_!" I yelled. Enigma flew from her seat and trotted out the door, which I slammed behind us both. She could not stop staring at me with puzzlement. "_What_?" I snapped, grabbing her collar, aggressively.

"Nothing!" she moaned, wide-eyed.

I pushed her away, nearly toppling her over her boots. I groaned in frustration, before starting to pace the hallway, irritably.

"Ivy!" I called.

"I'm comin', relax, baby!" she called back, from upstairs.

"What is she doing?" I asked Enigma.

"Getting those toxin immunity drugs for us," Enigma replied, messaging her top I had creased. "You know, so we can use those toxins on people without passing out ourselves."

"Fair enough," I said.

I flicked an irritating hair from my face, and stared at the top of the stairs, ready for Ivy to pirouette down, carrying two large needles.

It was the very opposite.

Ivy came crashing down the stairs, with two metal boxes, a raven black box in one hand, and a smaller red one in the other. She made us gather into the main sitting room, telling us to relax. In the red box, was a device that determined our blood pressure, telling Ivy which drug to use, so it wouldn't make us ill and drive us even more insane, and it was effective on our body types.

"Now, you both my feel a bit light-headed," Ivy informed us, opening the black box and revealing a small needle from the bottle of the pile, with no signs of hesitation, "but you'll feel fine in no time at all. It takes affect really quickly, too."

"Were you kicked out of medical school, Ivy?" Enigma asked.

"A long time ago," Ivy said. "I don't know why."

"If you can create cures like this, then how the hell can you get kicked out?" Enigma questioned, appearing to be puzzled about everything.

"Crime, sweetie," Ivy said, smiling. "Crime took over."

I waggled my eyebrows, knowingly at Enigma, but she just kept the same confused look at us both.

The needle process took a mere ten seconds each, as the little prick of a needle's end was no sort of pain to us. Ivy gave us some soaked bathroom roll to protect it for a while, but once we were fully cleansed, and toxin-free, Ivy planted a gun each into each of our palms, and we headed out to the van. She also passed us each, a perfume glass of her special toxin formula she made. This one was the one she showed me before, using it on a victim would erase their poor little mind for an hour or so after they were attacked with it and passed out from its 'fumes'.

I sat with Enigma in the back seats, both of us placing our bottles carefully into our back pockets.

"Where to?" Ivy asked, before revving the engine up.

"Enigma's neighbourhood," I answered. "It's in the centre of the city."

"Well, that's helpful," Ivy scoffed, sarcastically.

"I've been there before, sweetheart," I chuckled, remembering where Enigma had described. "It's the smallest neighbourhood in the City's Centre. It's where all the chaos has been happening next to Cicero. You know? Where loads of banks and bars are. Enigma reckons our…target will be in a certain alleyway where all the thugs hang out, am I correct, Enigma?"

"Uh-huh," Enigma confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. "It's Riverside, Ivy."

I smirked at my successful adrenaline-filled victim, who seemed overly positive all of sudden, next to me.

Ivy nodded, knowlingly, began to drive to our location, and I couldn't take my eyes off the determined Enigma, who was clutching onto her gun, that I thought her knuckles were going to turn white as Lapland's snow. Her mask was covering her eyes, and I no longer saw Chelsea Archer. She was almost unrecognisable. My smirked widened across my black lips.

"I told you holding a gun felt alright," I whispered.

"Yeah," she replied, not looking at me.

"Look at me," I ordered. She did so. "Are you _scared_? Huh?"

"Of course I'm scared, don't be ridiculous," she said, with a little sarcastic laugh, and a roll of her eyes.

"Don't be," I said, sharply, making her jump.

"I can't help it."

"You know something? The first time I set out to get revenge on someone who ruined my family's life, I was in a van. I was scared too, but you know something? As soon as I arrived, and I saw him, I felt…I felt this surge of determination in me, that didn't make me scared anymore. You just feel…" I sighed, heavily, recalling that night in my mind. I laughed quietly. "You just feel like nothing matters anymore. You'll feel it too."

"You're probably right."

"I _am _right. I've seen you angry, Enigma. It's not a pretty sight."

"I know. I'm _awful_ when I'm angry. I know it's going to come outta me. I just hope the cops don't discover who I really am. My mom will never forgive me. I couldn't stand for that."

"Oh, don't worry, they won't find out. They still don't know who the Batman is yet, I would have thought they would have figured _that _one out already."

"What if _he _catches us?"

"He won't come anywhere near me anymore."

"I'm just terrified of getting killed…or caught, that's all, Jane," she said, softly, but still giving me a determined look. "You _know _I want to do this for my family, because I'm _so angry _at everyone. I'm so _sick _of it. I just don't want to get myself killed and because I'm disguised my mom won't have a clue I'm dead!"

"We won't get killed," I insisted. "You _worry _too much. In this process, you have to be, uh…fearless, and _selfish_. It's easier for me, you see, because I _can't _feel any sympathy for no one anymore. I don't care. _Don't_ make me get soft with you, Enigma. I know we're, uh…uh…I'm not gonna use the word 'friends', no…I'll say, uh…_allies_. I know we're allies, but I'm not gonna get soft on you because you're a little nervous of being spotted by the cops. I think we need a bit of experience first, Enigma…before we face the target. Ivy! Where abouts are we?"

"Just coming into the City Centre now," Ivy replied, from the driver's seat. "Near Wayne Manor. About ten minutes away from this apparent neighbourhood."

"Park the van, we're stopping here," I instructed.

"Sure thing," Ivy said, brightly, indicating to go down a narrow road.

I looked back Enigma, who still had the same expression ion her face.

"Going to give you a taste of my medicine," I told Enigma, sternly. "I'm telling you, now, Niggy, as soon as you get angry, or even…_over-excited_, perhaps, it takes over. You can't stop. Especially with our behavioural problems, you know, the whole hyperactivity bliss that we have."

Enigma said nothing, as Ivy pulled up at the end of a random narrow street, and before I even got the chance to unstrap myself, Ivy had sprung out of her seat, and was outside, gripping onto her gun. She swung Enigma's door wide open, and Enigma tenderly got out, landing neatly on both feet. I climbed over and joined them, quietly shutting the door behind me.

"Where are we, exactly?" Enigma asked.

"I don't know," Ivy replied, as she led us to the end of the street. "Somewhere near your neighbourhood. I _know _where you're on about is only ten minutes away from wherever we are."

We reached the end of a busy street, where Ivy halted us all with a quick whip of her arm in front of us. I heard Enigma gasp, as we peered around the corner, to see the streets were flooded with citizens. Luckily, we were in the shadows, so no one could spot us. Oddly enough, the three of us stayed close, and just remained as out of sight as possible, gazing, with hate, at the City's busy roads.

Seeing everything so calm made a weird, twisted rage start to erupt inside my mind. Not one inhabitant was running around, screaming for help. No one was clinging onto their family for their sorry little lives. They all thought they were safe now that The Joker was Arkham bound, and I was allegedy recovering from a horrible injury. They thought nothing could touch them, now Batman had wrapped his fake wings around the City.

Oh, if only they knew. I was still out there, free, ready to pounce on them all like a hungry tigress, ready to take them by surprise, as I knew fully well they underestimated me. I wasn't stupid. I _knew _they all thought I wasn't dangerous, and my father was the bigger threat.

The voices started complaining immediately. Their battle had begun, as I heard a gunshot swarm through my mind. I flinched violently, as they began to take over, unpredictable, as always.

Enigma saw me flinch, and grabbed my free hand.

"What's up?" she hissed, looking desperate.

I didn't answer. I was too invested in my mind to answer any reality. The demons were rising up from the flames, nibbling on my brain. I didn't blink throughout.

_They're going to kill you, Jane. The man before said he was going to finish you off. You're so __**weak **__you can't even remember, can you? They're after you. You better kill them first, to prove you're not worthless. Worthless, worthless, worthless._

"No…" I grunted, gripping my head, tripping as I shot backwards, like a magnet was drawing me to the wall.

"Jane!" Ivy said, softly, trying to touch my arms.

"Oh my god, is she okay?" Enigma asked, gripping my wrist.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, flinching sharply away from them. I pounded my head onto the wall nearby. "Don't touch me," I said again, to no one in particular.

"Jane, chick, look at us!" Ivy begged, still trying to touch me.

"Ivy…leave me…" I whispered, in that madness fuelled voice. "The only way to make them stop is for _me _to do it. Because I'm _not _worthless!"

_You are._

"_No_!"

_You can't even see there are people trying to get rid of you, because you're so stupid. They want to get __**rid **__of your ideologies. Kill you. Get rid of everything._

"What?"

_Think about before. Be-fore. _

I panted hard, scrunching my eyes, trying to think through all the drama exploding out my schizoid mind.

I escaped a piercing scream from the back of my stinging throat, which was so sore, coughing felt like an agonising pain was tearing through my whole neck, which just mad me groan and yell louder, spluttering and gasping for air until I managed to control myself by inhaling deep breaths of preparation. Ivy and Enigma still responded by simply shushing me.

Nobody even bothered to run around the corner to come to my aid, upon hearing my deafening screams and unstoppable coughing. They bounced off the walls of that unlit street.

That is the darkened truth behind society.

I raced my mind to juggle what the voices were telling me. I managed to remember one of the men, myself and Ivy encountered before. He said he may as well 'finish me off', about to shoot me. He said 'everyone's after you, Jane'. I remembered Ivy suggesting if there were a certain group of people, such as detectives, out to get me, to get rid of me by actually killing me or chucking me away in Arkham, because maybe they saw that fiery danger in me, which a normal citizen appeared to be oblivious to, compared to my father.

Maybe it _was _the truth. Maybe they _were _out to get me.

_They're going to kill you. Kill them back._

I spun around, and slid down the wall, still clinging onto my head and burying it into my knees. I groaned, muffled into my scratched knees.

"Oh my god," Enigma gasped, repeatedly.

_Kill, kill, kill, kill_, the demons said, non-stop.

When I finally managed to open my eyes and look up, I saw a blurred vision of Ivy and Enigma's panicked faces, and exhaled a trembling breath, while trying to lift my heavy head of madness.

"Ivy, they won't stop," I said. For some reason, a smile appeared on my lips, for reasons that were unknown to me. "They won't stop," I repeated.

"Okay, okay, just relax," she soothed, trying to be reassuring.

"Ivy…what if you were right?" I gasped, loudly.

"What?" she questioned.

"Before…the guy who tried to shoot me before, remember?" Ivy nodded. "But I shot him first, o-obviously…but he…didn't he say…he may as well finish it off? That…everyone was after me? They're saying…they're saying they're going to kill me, Ivy. I have to kill them first."

"Don't listen," Ivy said, desperately.

"I _have _to."

"Jane…Jane is this what happens all the time?" Enigma asked, sitting next to me. "I mean…"

I panted hard, glancing at her. She looked startled by my maddened glare I bottled at her.

"Now you know what it's _like_, huh?" I said. "Day in, day out, possessed, nothing more. I may look calm right now, to you, but they're still shouting." I then looked up at Ivy, unreadable in my painted face, as the demons made it impossible to etch even a single emotion through my features. "Can't you hear them talking?" I asked, now touching her leg. "They're screaming. My mother's screaming again."

"Princess Jane, you _know_ they're not real," Ivy said, kneeling to our level.

"They are," I breathed, nodding. "They're telling me what _you _suggested before. There are people after me. Trying to test me. Get rid of me. That's why we have to get _out_ there." I darted my head back at Enigma. "And it'll show you, girl." Enigma stuttered a few unrecognisable words. "Besides, why you asking if this happens all the time? You've _seen _me be like this before. Haven't ya? Hmm?"

"Not like _this_," she gasped, her voice cracking.

"Don't sympathise with me, Enigma," I hissed. "I don't need it. I don't _want _it. I can hear 'em. They'll go in their own time." I giggled.

"It's so awful," Enigma said.

"To you, it might be, to me, it's life," I stated. I gripped my head again when I felt another gunshot burst through my mind. "Shut _up_!" I snarled. "Shut up."

"I can't believe nobody's heard us," Ivy said. "Must be so busy out there. Don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna take that opportunity."

"I'm going first!" I shouted, immediately shooting to my feet. "They're _telling _me…"

"I know, I know…" Ivy said.

"No, you _don't_," I groaned. "Outta my way, plant lady. I'm killing them before they get me." I crept over to the end of the street again, and a single eye peered around the corner to see the commotion in the streets again. I soon felt Ivy and Enigma behind me. "Enigma, you know what to do if anyone comes near you, right?" I asked, not looking behind me.

"Run a mile?" she joked, giggling a little.

"No," I said, flatly. "You defend yourself. That's all I'm going to say."

"I've got your back, sweetie," Ivy said. "By the way, you take _my_ gun. I think you'll prefer it."

"Will I?" I asked, turning around briskly.

She just smiled, and before I could agree, she swapped our guns, and slammed her much larger gun in both my sweaty palms, shaking with adrenaline beneath my gloves. I grunted at the heaviness brought upon me with this larger gun, I had to hold with both of my hands. I loaded it, carelessly, before glancing Enigma, who looked besotted with the gun Ivy had handed me.

"What's up, Enigma?" Ivy asked her.

"Nothing," she murmured.

I couldn't hold it back any longer. I stepped one exposed leg from behind the wall, poking my head out again, to see, a couple of yards away from my foot, two young men, who were sitting on a nearby bench, busy munching on a KFC. I snickered, cruelly, under my breath, before revealing myself completely from behind the wall.

I took a few quiet steps forward, crouching down as low as I possibly could, using all my strength in my thighs to take me there, up behind the two unfortunate victims, humming The Cure's tunes to myself. As I moved forward, I came more into the streetlight, tracing my watchful eyes around the streets and oblivious people around me. They couldn't notice me ducking behind the two figures, as to my luck, both of them were towering.

"If you're happy and you know it shoot ya gun," I hummed the familiar tune my head has decided to play, as I continued crouching forward. It was very bizarre, particularly because my voice had turned into an insane, possessed whisper. "If you're happy and you know it shoot ya _gun_," I continued, under my breath. "If ya happy…and you know it, and ya really wanna show it…" I lifted the gun towards their heads, as silently as possible. They were still laughing and bellowing crude jokes in their blatant drunken state among themselves, nobody noticing my noiseless presence. "If ya happy and you know shoot your _gun_."

The top of my fingers were stinging with disturbing adrenaline, trembling violently, making it flood through my body, up to my tongue, which wouldn't stop flicking the insides of my mouth.

With the voices preparing me, like they always do, I started to put pressure on the trigger.

As soon as I pulled the trigger, what seemed like a hundred bullets sprang out of the gun with an ear-splitting gunshot, killing the two men instantly, not even allowing a mere whimper to escape from their mouths in time. They toppled forward from the bench, spilling their food all over the dirty concrete, which soon became caked in their blood, which began to make a puddle around the floor.

I'd never used a machine gun, like this before.

The attack happened so quickly, it made me laugh wildly in excitement.

I laughed even harder when the entire street went silent, a dozen heads swivelling to look at my shadow, looming suddenly over my latest prey. I stood up, heavily, bringing the gun with me.

My cackling was the only thing that could be heard.

I hadn't laughed as psychotically as this before. I was even disturbing myself with how insane my laughter sounded, not just the people around me, who had become glued to the floor, staring at me.

A woman a few yards away from me, suddenly screamed.

"Ah, shut up!" I exclaimed to her, brightly, pulling the trigger again.

She was shot down, with another deafening screech of agony, with three people behind her, joining her journey to Heaven, who had just begun to start backing away.

That gunshot was almost like the confirmation for everyone to start scampering away, like a patrolling ant colony.

_Kill, kill, kill_.

It only takes one person's life to end in my hands, and then I become a violent, wild animal.

I become the demons that I hear.

I started sauntering towards the chaotic crowd, screaming until their lungs started leaking with the air left inside them. Like I was an obnoxious little boy using a toy gun he had been given for his birthday, I relentlessly started firing the popping bullets out to random citizens, many of which I successful shot down. Only a few I managed to grab and sent a thousand bullets through their heads to get them out of the way quickly. A few cops appeared out of nowhere, shouting pointless instructions to me, but thanks to my quick feet I managed to hide myself behind walls and lampposts, before killing them all instantly with nonstop exploding triggers. Thankfully, the gunshots were so loud they drowned out every other sound surrounding my weary head, including the noises in my head themselves.

Wandering further and further into the lampshade-lit neighbourhood, laughing joyously at being able to release my mad energy, I stumbled across three ratty looking men, at different times, all looking completely identical in their thuggish appearance, gasping for air, as they each darted a quivering gun towards me.

Of course, they couldn't get away that easily.

I had them all dead in seconds flat, with help from my superiorly quicker feet to get away within minutes.

However, the third scruffy 'criminal' I came across, just after I had nearly tripped up a kerb, yielded a gun at me, coming up so close, he actually plummeted it into my chest.

"Playtime's over, little girl," he panted, not blinking, as his eyes bore into my gleaming orbs of insanity. I was still giggling, impassively into his face. "You and that clown's madness ends here. _I'm _gonna be the one to finish you off, since everyone else around here is so pathetic and _scared _of a silly little freak, not having the balls to do it."

"Whaddya mean, the one to finish me off?" I questioned, pouting cheekily. "Are all the middle-aged men in Gotham City, who happen to own a gun, after me or something? You all _must _be perverts!" I cackled, lifting my own gun, and digging it into his stomach. "Wanting a seventeen year old girl like me _dead_? Heartless pigs! Ha! What _for_ anyway?!"

"For–"

He was cut off by a loud, combating grunt by Poison Ivy, who had suddenly appeared at my side. Everything was so loud around me and in my mind, I hadn't heard her follow me. She kicked up her high leg, into the guy's face. Her sharp kick made him fumble to the concrete, clutching his nose, which began to spout out waterfall of blood. Enigma was close behind her, with her own gun, looking down on the man in disgust.

"Oh, hey, Ivy, Enigma," I laughed. "How nice for you to join me."

"I wasn't gonna have this _boy _shoot you in the chest, was I?" Ivy growled down at the man, not looking up. "Of _all_ places!"

"And…and who exactly are you?" the man grumbled, trying to stagger to his feet again.

"Poison Ivy," she stated, ploughing him in the stomach with her six inch heel, so he was yet again down on the floor. "Gotham's most…uh…_advanced_…florist." She pointed her gun at him. "I'm like a mom to Princess Jane, you see, an' I'm not letting anyone hurt her. She's been through enough as it is."

"She's right!" I squealed.

"Sticking up for that little _tramp_?!" the man yelled, only to receive another sharp kick by Ivy. "She's a murderer! The city wants rid of her! _I'm _gonna be the one to do that!"

"Oh, I don't _think_ so," Enigma piped up.

Ivy and I shot our heads towards her in surprise.

"Enigma?" I said, flabbergasted.

"He's not gonna kill you," Enigma said, stepping forward.

Without warning, the man managed to shoot up and push Ivy to the floor, so quickly, none of us had time to respond. He grabbed Enigma by her shirt, and she squealed in surprise, but soon have him an unemotional look of disdain.

"And who are you, her girlfriend?" he snarled at Enigma.

"_Best _friend," she grunted, trying to squirm away.

"And you stick up for her too, do you?" he scolded. "_Shock _that you're both women."

"Oh that _does _it!" Enigma yelled, and spat in his face, making the blood streaming from his nose glisten brighter, as he growled in agony. He pushed Enigma away go to cling onto his eye.

I found the whole thing so hilarious, my stomach hurt too much to make me kick him down to the floor again. It didn't matter, as Ivy soon bottled him down to the ground in pain again, with a hard punch to the stomach. Ivy and I continued kicking him, all over his body, so it was impossible for him to get up.

"I _told _you Ivy!" I screeched, happily, as I bolted him in the head. "They don't realise our strength!"

We then winced and froze as we heard Enigma scream in shock.

My blood froze, when I saw a figure on the other end of the street, head to toe in loose, cloudy grey clothing, even his eyes were the colour of the sky in November. He was holding a large gun himself, and started walking towards us, every step he took, he took carefully.

"Stay away!" Enigma warned, starting to raise her own gun, shaking violently with nerves.

"Just shoot him, baby!" Ivy called out.

"Oh, I would _not_ think about it, sweetheart," the figure sneered.

"Shoot him!" I laughed, feeling pleased, knowing Enigma had at least raised her own gun to him.

"You chicks are fucking crazy," the figure chuckled, loading his gun. I saw Enigma jump. "This is a man's world."

"Asshole!" I screamed, jolting my gun up, in a spark of rage.

"Hey, hey, Princess Jane," Ivy calmed, giving me a cheeky look. "Let Enigma sort this one out."

I smirked back at my 'surrogate mother.'

"Don't let him say things like _that_, Enigma!" I cried. "You're not going to let him get away with calling you sexist things like _that_, are you?!"

Enigma didn't say a word.

"Not unless I shoot you _first_, little princess," the figure warned. "And then the rest of you, for attacking my brother."

I saw his finger put pressure on his trigger.

Enigma gasped in horror.

"_NO_!" she bellowed.

With that, she let a bullet fire from her own gun, and the figure thumped cripplingly onto the floor. We almost heard his skull break, as his head cracked onto the end of the kerb, as he collapsed. Enigma gasped as she saw him lie motionless, his shady blood, as ever, starting to stain the concrete around him. Ivy and I, however, we laughing, hysterically.

"Good shot, Niggy!" I praised.

"N-No…no!" the man below us whimpered.

"Shut up, big man!" I taunted, kicking the side of his neck repeatedly. Ivy pinned down his arm, and snatched his gun off him, so Ivy was effortlessly carrying a gun in each palm.

"You crazy whore!" he screamed, trying to kick away.

"_Don't _call her that!" Enigma suddenly shouted, bolting around to face us.

"Woah, Enigma! The madness really _does _rub off on people!" I snickered.

"Like you said, all it takes is for that trigger to fire," Enigma sneered, joining in with the kicking. "I think it _has _by now, what with everyone calling you crazy, when it _clearly _doesn't need to be said to her!"

"_Thank you_!" I jeered. "At last, someone seeing sense."

"But she is–" our victim spluttered.

"She's schizophrenic, you dumb _asshole_!" Enigma was suddenly ranting like a maniacal killer. "People like you get on my _tits_! Clearly calling her that is gonna make her even _more _mad, you idiot! And it's not something to get angry about, it's really not! It's serious, it's horrible! You have no idea what's it's like! I'm not, but I've seen her breakdown, literally! So don't _insult _her! What she has is terrible by anyone's standards! It's not _her _fault she has it! Uhh, and don't get me _started _with your sexist views! Just 'cos we're women, doesn't mean we shouldn't be like…_this_. People like you drive me crazy, I swear!"

"Literally," I mumbled.

"You think you're so special, and so badass!" Enigma went on. "But you're not! We're not the freaks, _you _are!"

"Just shoot him, get it over with," Ivy groaned.

"Yeah, he's _not _worth _our_ time," I giggled. "Get him out of the way, like you did his brother!"

Enigma sighed, before pointing her gun at the struggling man below us.

"I don't know _how _I even made this thing shoot a minute ago," she said. "But I guess now…I've worked it out. Guess it comes naturally when you're angry."

Squinting her eyes shut for the loud gunshot, she loaded the gun, and then exploded another bullet, just before Ivy and I moved away from him. Enigma shot him down before he could even struggle to his feet.

"Fuck me, that was a good shot," I laughed, loading my machine gun. "Come _on_, nearly everyone's buggered off now they've seen me. No doubt the cops will be coming now. I'll just shoot them all anyway…ooh, sorry…I mean _we _will. Naturally. So come on."

Without saying another word, they obediently followed me further into the streets, and the few remaining citizens ran a mile when I came patrolling through the roads. Cars who tried to charmingly knock me out, I fired a dozen bullets at, so their cars screeched out of the way, one into a nearby building. Even Enigma couldn't help but squeal with laughter at this chaotic sight.

The adrenaline rush carried us further into the shopping promenade, where the Gotham citizens scattered away into shops, their screams of anguish making the demons, and myself, howl with victorious laughter. I found it hilarious how pitiful they were, not having an ounce of bravery to face me. Like cowards, some of the ducked under pointless hiding places. Ivy and Enigma awarded some petrified inhabitants with Ivy's toxins, while I continued firing a million bullets at what seemed to be over thirty people, who flopped down dead beneath my feet. Some I managed to grab and fire a sharp bullet through their skulls, especially the ones who begged to be let free.

The Joker's advice always remained with me: use guns on people you just want gone, who aren't worth your time. Knives on special people who you want to see slowly suffer and then die in a mixture of their blood and my own icicle cold blood.

While I unleashed the most madness I've ever had, Ivy and Enigma stayed near the entrance, only embarrassing a few group people with the toxins. Well, Ivy did most of the dirty work, Enigma barely got her hands dirty, except for just ranting in frustration and shooting the odd person, with hesitation. This is what I saw when I returned to the entrance. As soon as they saw me, they dropped the woman they were holding and shot out of the promenade, when I nodded towards the door.

The sky was turning navy to inky black, I wasn't waiting around anymore.

We sprinted away, down the streets, chortling like hungry hyenas, darting towards the furthest street, where Ivy's van was waiting patiently for us.

"There she is!" I heard as we ran, prickling my ears to attention. I froze, making the others stop suddenly with me, Enigma almost toppling me over. "Shoot her! That's the girl!" I heard again.

"Where's that coming from?" I hissed, my heart pounding fast. I bolted my gun up ahead.

"What?" Ivy whispered.

"Someone's going to shoot me," I hissed again.

"There's no one around," Enigma said.

"You're imagining stuff now," Ivy added.

For one split moment, I thought they were right, and it was just the devils playing their scheming mind games on me. I quickly discovered this wasn't the case, when I saw, from the corner of my eye, a hooded figure, laying on his stomach, on the floor, peeping his blurred head from behind a car wheel.

I gasped the moment I saw him holding a gun towards us all, which looked twice the size of my own.

"_Fuck off_!" I screamed.

A series of penetrating gunshots exploded from my gun, making Ivy and Enigma leap from their skins in shock. I was lucky I had unbelievable aim from all those years of experience. His life ended quickly before he could fire his own, obviously taking his time aiming. Enigma yelped when another hooded man ran from behind the car, which I immediately shot down, joining his bleeding friend on the floor. I panted hard, scrunching my eyes until I could see flashing fireworks sparkling over a black background.

_They're after you_, they all roared, continuously, overlapping each other until my head was clammed up with nothing but noises.

I snapped my head up, shooting my eyes open, and looking back at a bewildered Ivy and Enigma.

"Oh my _god_," Ivy exclaimed.

"There really _are _people after you, aren't there?" Enigma asked, quietly. "Why…?"

"Shut up," I snapped, starting to feel that heated, unanticipated rage boil inside my head again.

"It's ridiculous," Enigma scoffed, starting to walk in front of me, with Ivy following her. I, however, kept my heels nailed to the floor, inhaling and exhaling, calmly. "These thugs trying to kill a seventeen year old girl, who they clearly know is tortured inside? It's stupid. It's _so _stupid. They need sorting out just as much."

"_Shut up_!" I barked.

"Jane, calm down, now, sweetie," Ivy said, turning around to face me.

"Don't touch me," I hissed at her. "Get into the van, _now_, before anyone else comes to shoot med." They didn't move. "Do I _have _to repeat myself?!" I questioned, maliciously. "_Go_! _NOW_!"

They didn't have to be told again. Ivy grasped Enigma's hand, and they both soared off, into the distance to find the van.

I stayed still for a few moments, still breathing hard, searching my snake eyes around the streets, for anyone coming after me. Although I was furious, I couldn't help but also feel…accomplishment. It looks like I'd scared everyone off and no one would dare come out of their houses, or the stores they'd tootled into.

That was, until one man creeped out of a store, not that far away from where I was standing. He was unloaded with no kind of weapon, and froze in horror when his eyes caught the sight of me. His hands snapped up in mercy, and he tried to escape back into the store again.

"Ah, ah…I wouldn't think about moving," I warned, coming closer. "Unless you want me to kill everyone hiding in your store?" He remained silent and still. "You thinking about calling the cops, _all _of you in there die and have their money burned, right?" He nodded. "If the cops arrive, tell them I went to Gotham Town, hmm?" He nodded again. "Pfft, you're such a pitiful excuse for a human being. You'll fall for _anything_, won't ya, _huh_? Now, tell me, _big boy_, why are there so many men trying to shoot me? Has there been some sort of ordeal to get me killed or something?"

"I…I don't know," he murmured.

"Hmm? Sorry, I'm a bit _deaf _in my right ear," I scolded, now plunging the gun into his chest.

"I don't know!" he cried.

"Ooh, I don't know, Princess Jane!" I imitated his Brooklyn accent.

"I honestly don't!" he persisted.

"Hmm…really? You seem like a man who watches GCN. Are you _sure _there's been nothing?"

"I told you, I don't know!" he stammered.

"Huh. What a puss," I laughed, and shot him in three seconds flat. "Don't know why I'm wasting my time."

I made my way down the street and upwards, to the narrow street, where the van was parked.

Just before I turned the corner, a blinding flashlight halted me in my path. I grunted and squinted to look past it.

When I saw it was a cop car, I instantly snapped my gun towards them.

"This is the Gotham City Police Department," a voice announced, on a loudspeaker. "We have you surrounded."

"You don't, actually!" I chortled. "Where's ya pet Bat?"

"Put your weapons down, put your hands on your head–"

I bulleted the two cops that climbed out the car, immediately, cutting off the loudspeaker. When seeing that I had targeted their deaths perfectly, I sprinted away to my desired location, running even faster as I heard the police car's engine start to roar and I saw the headlights flicker. I kept shooting behind me as I ran as fast as I could go, the police car just behind me, until finally, I made it back to Ivy at the driver's seat, and Enigma in the back passenger seat, waiting with baited breath in the van.

"Ivy, drive, now!" I commanded, climbing into the back with Enigma, and slamming the door behind me.

This time, Ivy didn't question me. She revved up and the van was shooting down the road in a flash, starting to zoom down the shortcut we had arrived from.

"What's going on?" asked Enigma, actually smiling at me, curiously, when I rebelliously unstrapped myself, and started drawing down the window until it vanished, like a Joker magic trick. He air bashed into our faces, making Enigma's blonde pigtails flap crazily, and my short crimson hair flying in front of my face. I climbed onto my knees and poked my head out of the window, carefully leaning out of the window, to glance towards behind the van, along with my heavy gun poking out of the window. I saw Enigma unstrap herself as well, and look in the back window of the van. "Oh my god, the cops are after us!" she squealed.

"Not for long they won't be," I snickered. "Watch this, Enigma."

Enigma joined me on my side, just managing to place herself next to me, and peep her head out next to mine.

"_Looo-seeers_!" Enigma laughed, as if she were a drunk jailbird, when she saw me fire a dozen bullets from the gun, aiming for the car.

"Well said, Niggy!" I guffawed.

"Have you actually ever done _this_ before?" she asked.

"No, but it's fun though, isn't it?" I cackled, nastily, as I continued firing the machine gun's bullets at the cop car. I made silly noises as I continued to fire. The wind gushing through my face made my sweaty self much more relaxed, the anger now starting to fade away, and the playful adrenaline came back. "I knew my dad…boom! Did this kind of thing…bang, bang, bang! Many weeks back! Shoot it _down_, you stupid gun!"

"Leave us alone!" Enigma shouted, angrily, at the car behind us. She scrambled to the other side, where she drew down her own window, and settled herself in the same position as me. "You have no chance, you old bastards!" she catcalled.

"Enigma, what on earth are you doing, you little rebel?" I laughed, although I knew exactly what she was doing. Enigma didn't answer, instead yelling the word "bastard", in different tones repeatedly. "Help me out, girl!" I called, as loud as I could.

"What?!" Enigma said. "I have terrible aim!"

"Not from what I saw I minute ago!" I jeered. "But be careful you don't fall out and your head gets crushed by a truck!"

"And you, you crazy girl!" she laughed.

I heard Enigma fire her own gun, but it instead killed a bystander. I howled with laughter, as my aim improved with every trigger, at Ivy's great speed of over 80 mph. I'd never handled a gun at this speed before, but it was certainly the biggest rush of energy I'd ever had in my life.

Very soon, my bullets were smashing through the cop car's front window, until it finally spiralled out of control, with the cop at the wheel losing his balance of the wheel. The car was skidding across the motorway, as crazily as my head was pounding.

"Oops!" I squealed, as Enigma fired another pointless, failed bullet.

The cop car screeched to a halt, nearly tumbling over completely onto its back, another car smashing behind it, and then another squawking to an out of control stop behind the smashed line of cars, and then, we were speeding away from it to make our getaway, leaving it helpless in the distance.

Enigma and I carefully popped out heads back into the van, having succeeded, turning up the windows, so the wind hushed down. The silence came too quickly, I almost jumped at the sound of my head racking overpowering everything. We simultaneously strapped ourselves in, and put our guns beneath our feet, panting quickly.

She looked at me, I looked at her.

We both burst into laughter, mine sounding hideously psychotic.

"You two are nutters," Ivy said from the driver's seat, laughing herself. "I can't believe you, Princess Jane."

"_She_ did it, as well!" I cried, pointing at Enigma.

"I wasn't gonna let them catch us, you _kidding_ me?!" Enigma laughed. "I've had an argument with a cop before, it didn't end up well."

"What for?!" I asked, intrigued.

"Alright, so I stole a packet of gum about a year ago and the store owner caught me," she explained. Ivy and I exploded into laughter again. "Shut up, you guys! I was _starving_!"

"Oh, that is just _too _funny!" I snickered, wiping a tear of laughter from my eye, which smudged my paint slightly.

"Well, at least those bastards aren't following us anymore," Enigma said.

"Always keep your eyes open for them, though, sweet," Ivy warned. "It's happened to me before. Harley and I got caught once when we least expected it, and boom, we ended up in Blackgate. Don't get your hopes up."

"Do you mean Harley Quinn?" Enigma asked.

"Uh-huh," Ivy replied.

"That woman who's supposed to be The Joker's lover, as the news put it?"

"Yeah, she's his lover, _that's _it," I scoffed. "She's nothing more than annoying pain the ass."

"Well, you _would_ say that," Enigma said, without thinking. "She's your dad's girlfriend."

"I wouldn't go there, Enigma," Ivy said, as she saw my glare through the head mirror.

"But–" Enigma spotted my impatient scowl, and dropped the subject instantly.

After I'd calmed down, I asked Ivy, "You _are _taking us to where we were _supposed _to go to, right?"

"Of course I am," Ivy said, turning off the motorway, into a new part of the city called Riverside. "We'll be there any minute."

"Is this right way, Enigma?" I questioned her, blankly.

"Yeah, this is right," she answered. "Riverside."

"I _knew _it was here, why didn't you just say?"

"I dunno."

"I reckon you're ready to take _anyone _on now you've just shown you can do _that_," I said.

"But I didn't even hit the car," she grumbled.

"That's not the point, Niggy," I snapped. "You…you got…_such _an angry adrenaline…that it turned into pleasure…and you showed it to somebody you hate. I told you, this is what happens. You just showed that. I knew you would show your true colours eventually."

Not another word was said, as Ivy made her way through the streets of this small neighbourhood called Riverside, and it was exactly how she had described. It was a secluded little area, with a simple, large bank. We past a number of bars and taverns, all of them having a crowd of drunkards cheering and smoking a long line of a number of drugs.

Enigma guided Ivy to an abandoned parking lot, outside a church. We all climbed out of the van and hid behind it, out of sight, and I replaced the large machine gun, with a simple, regular handgun again, and Ivy took her machine gun back. Ivy handed me her own knife, which I hid in my left skirt pocket, my bottle of toxin was in the other, unbelievably not leaking or smashed yet.

"Now, you know where you're going, right?" Ivy asked, as if she were a protective mother.

"I know where to go from here," Enigma said, confidently. "At around this time, Frank, his brother and his cronies are hanging out in this alleyway near a bar called The Swan Inn. I know where it is, it's where me and my family took a shortcut to get home, and where he ended up having that fight with Frank and his brother."

"They're gonna regret being money-corrupted now," I chuckled.

"Yes, that's what they are, but what's that got to do with anything?" Enigma inquired.

"Thugs like them are all the same," I explained. "I told you this. They probably wanted your stepdad's money, go so far as to make him out to be some sort of criminal mastermind. Huh. Well, thugs like this Frank guy don't know what crime's _really _about. We'll show 'em. Let's go."

"Wait, Jane…" Ivy whispered.

"What?" I huffed, impatiently.

"You and Enigma go," she said. "I, myself, have gotta get back into the flow. I'm gonna pay a visit to that jewellery store we passed. You got your cell phone right?" I nodded. "Give me call when you've beaten his ass, and I'll meet you back here at the van. Got it?"

"I haven't got your number," I complained.

Ivy and I quickly exchanged numbers, and I put my phone back in my pocket, laying with my knife.

"Right, go get 'em, my little troublemakers," Ivy cooed, locking the van behind her. "And be careful. Both of ya."

She galloped off into the distance, climbing over a gate as she left, and into a mucky street, to make her way to this jewellery store.

"Aren't you mad she's not coming with us?" Enigma asked me.

"Nah, not really," I giggled. "We don't need our so-called, huh…_mother_. You and I are the ones to deal with these scumbags, not her. Heh, she was helpful at that chaos before, but now she won't be. We have her toxins, we're immune to them. We have guns. We're sorted. Show me the way."

Enigma nodded, keenly, and started leading me the way Ivy had gone. We too had to climb over this tiny, padlocked gate, but we went the opposite way to Ivy. It only took two minutes to reach out destination, as Enigma knew exactly where to go. Passing through a shadowy, muddy street that only had one bar in it, and turning down another path, and then one more, was all it took to reach this alleyway. It was so quiet in this little neighbourhood that nobody was around this little area. However, as we reached our murky location, I heard the sounds of the thumping music from a distant bar grow louder, although still too faint to reel my head further, and the foul stench of marijuana start to flood my nostrils, making me wince.

"Is this it?" I asked, as we turned into the scummy alleyway, where there was not a body in sight.

"Yeah, this is it," Enigma stated. "The shortcut way."

"It's much smaller than I thought," I said.

"Yeah, hardly anyone knows this shortcut, apart from Frank and his friends of course."

"Are you positive this is where they hang out?"

"Yeah, even before they came to my dad quiz and riddle night that night, we still passed them occasionally coming through here, and even _then _I heard them sniggering."

"So…where _are _they?" I demanded, shooting up close to Enigma's face, and she stepped nervously up against the wall.

"They should be here soon for a smoke break," she stammered. "I just _know _it. If I wasn't so sure I wouldn't _bring _you here, Shaylee."

"_Jane_," I corrected.

"Sorry…Princess Jane," she mumbled. "Sorry, it still seems weird."

"Hmm."

"I still can't believe I'm doing this."

"You're doing…the _right _thing, Enigma."

"I know…but as soon as it's done with, I'm getting my stepdad out of Blackgate, and then I'm going home, no matter _how _much trouble I get into."

I stepped closer, where she tensed up against the wall.

"I don't _scare _you still, do I?" I asked, mockingly.

"A little," she admitted, quietly.

"You are now, when we're alone," I whispered, smirking at her, "but when Frank and his brother and his little gang of boys arrive, you _won't _be scared. I know it. You said so yourself. You're _sick_…of everything. You _hate_…everyone."

"Yeah, I do at this moment in time!"

"And it'll come through, but here me out, don't shoot straight away. Let _me_…do some useful interrogating first. Get to know his little schemes first. I know I'm just like my father, but I _can't _help it. I _am _his daughter…yes, I am The Joker's daughter…a manipulative bitch, but hey, it's better than being corrupted by justice, huh?" Enigma looked at me, uncertainly. "I wanna suss out this guy. I guarantee there's some _terrible _truth behind this guy…" I lowered my voice. "And if he has a _major _problem with me…_I _am going to kill him."

"But…but what about–?" Enigma spluttered, desperately.

"Quiet, now," I snapped. "If you're right, he'll be here very soon, I imagine."

"Yes."

"If he doesn't show up, then guess what, Enigma? You've wasted my time, and like I said earlier today, I _hate _people who waste my time. Let me tell ya, it _won't _be a pretty result if you've wasted my time on this _terribly _long day."

"He _will _be here!"

"You better hope so, my friend."

"Whoa! Hey looks guys, two young sluts about to make out in an alleyway! It's our lucky night!"

My head bulleted to my right, when I heard a chorus of immature laughter start to fill up my waxing ears. Enigma tried to shoot past me, but I firmly held her back with one arm, pushing her behind me, almost protectively, like I _was _her best friend. Despite this, she darted her gun in their direction, immediately. I glanced at her and she had a face fuelled with disgust, just after she let out a low gasp.

"That's him," she whispered, hoarsely. "That's Frank and his friends. Uh…no sign of his brother, though. I _told you _they hang around this place. Do you believe me now?"

I ignored her, and looked back to see a group of four scruffy men, all with untidy hair and clothes that reeked of marijuana from their short distance, approach us, sturdily. They looked like they were in their late twenties, and the tallest one in the middle (blatantly the leader, Frank himself) was arrogantly blowing a long line of marijuana in his large gob. They were all holding a line of the drug between their fingers, black pushed behind their bitten fingernails. I rolled my eyes at their laughable attempt to seem intimidating as they approached Enigma and I, and I fixated my eyes on the tallest guy.

I smirked, as the opportunity to kill his friends, leaving Frank alone with us both, sparked my brain. I knew it would be easy, now I had Enigma as well.

"What we got here, lads?" the tall guy asked, loudly, when they finally came up close.

"Two freaks," one guy sniggered behind him, making them all chuckle.

"Two cheap little whores, it looks like," another laughed.

"Excuse me?" I said, in my psychotic princess voice, still holding Enigma back. "Do you even know who I am? God help you if you don't."

"Yeah, that psycho chick who helped that maniac Joker for a bit," the leader said.

A fiery sensation that had been rising in me all night long, now urged me to slowly reveal the knife from my new skirts' back pocket, as quickly as I could. I did just that, forcing myself to release Enigma. When the brilliant shine of the blade blinded them, they instantly stepped away like the true cowards they were.

"And aren't _you_ a little bit off your head?" I mocked, giggling hysterically. "Coming into the presence of someone clearly armed with weapons, if you've been paying attention to the news, you'll _know _I'm not just a little girl. Aw, and look at you little boys, armed with _nothing_ to threaten me with, except your laughable cocky attitude. It doesn't get you places you know, my friend. I once showcased an attitude like that when I was a kid–"

"You still _are_ a kid, slut," he hissed.

"I'm seventeen. Barely a kid. I'm not a slut either, but of course men like you are always _so_ judgemental. Judgemental people make me mad, and trust me, you don't want to make a girl like me mad." I then lowered my voice as my mind chortled at my little jokes. "It can get a bit messy," I whispered, in a voice that spilled with the insanity, boiling me up.

"And don't think _I_ don't know who you are," Enigma piped up. "You're that douchebag who assaulted my stepdad at his work in the bar."

I gasped in gleeful delight, grinning at Enigma.

"Oh, so you _know_ this man!" I squealed, pretending to be oblivious to knowing of their story. She nodded, knowing of my approach, managing to smile back. "Oh my god, how _precious_ is this?!"

"How the _fuck_ do you know me, you little slut?" he demanded.

"I'd watch your mouth, big man," she snarled. "If you don't remember, it was _not _long ago you attacked my dad, who's an amazing quiz master at–"

"Oh! You mean that faggot Nygma?!" They all burst into scolding laughter. "So you're his kid?!"

"His stepdaughter."

"Oh yeah, I remember you! What's with the clown outfit, sweetheart?" He laughed into our faces. "Yeah, I remember you, the daughter, but you're a _step_-daughter, are you? Yeah, because Nygma hasn't got the _balls_ to create kids of his own, the faggot!"

Enigma then attempted to launch herself at him, but I reacted quickly, shooting around and holding her back by my hand.

"Aw, they must be two lesbians!" one of them jeered. "Look how she's keeping her calm and collected! Don't want to get _too_ excited for the tit-licking session later!"

I sharply snapped myself around again, displaying the knife in front of their faces again, darting it dangerously close to their skin, making them all back off, suddenly. I handed my gun to Enigma, who now held both of our guns, so tightly, her knuckles' skin could rip through to reveal her bones. Frank and his gang weren't laughing anymore.

"Such a _funny_ coincidence that someone Enigma hates turns up conveniently out of nowhere," I sighed, happily, although I knew this wasn't the case. "Thirty million people in this goddamn city and it's _you_ who turns up, huh? Remarkable. Well, maybe not, because, uh...I know she lives around this part, Riverside, and so do you, so uh..."

"You made a twat out of him, that night!" Enigma suddenly shouted. "I know it was you, Frank Falino! You assaulted him because you think he's a freak, and now he's wrongly locked up in Blackgate because of _you_! At least he's smart unlike you'll ever be, Frank!"

"Calm down, honey," I soothed, in a purposely perilous tone of voice. "We'll sort this guy out, because let me tell you something, _Frank_, you know what we've decided to do? Well…me, anyway…show men, that women are _not_ possessions to be made of, but...doing it in the only way that _I_ know how. Cruelty. Yes, unfortunately, guys, in this big wide universe...sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind. Men are nothing but selfish assholes anyway. We've gone and killed a _dozen_ of people tonight, you know, and we loved every minute."

"You must be joking," Frank foolishly said. "You two freakish little squirts trying to take on _us_? We're twice your size, freak!"

"And what exactly should I be scared of right now, hmm?" I questioned, gently, in a patronising tone. "Tell this…feeble little girl what she should be so frightened of."

"What should _I_ be scared of?" Frank scoffed.

"You're the biggest fool I've ever come across!" I squealed, mockingly. "Don't you know...what this _freak_...has done to people in this City?"

"Yeah, with The Joker, you've killed a few people and waltzed around thinking you're a little badass. Thinking we should all be _scared_ of you?"

"I am my own person."

"Which is why you have that faggoty quizmaster's kid as your apparent partner in crime?"

I sighed and shook my head on sarcastic disappointment, once again holding Enigma in place, as she flinched in anger.

"She's my _best _friend," I spat, angrily. "Shame the world is full of incorruptible assholes like you, who thinks they're better than anyone else."

"And it's also a fucking shame that there are _scumbags_ like you who terrorise cities and kill innocent people like _you_."

I stared at him, my eyes creasing with pure hatred now. It was almost like I felt the sparkle of kill in my eye at that moment.

It was so hard not to plunge the knife into him right then.

_You're not going to let him call you those things are you?_ they growled, deafeningly in my head. _He doesn't know the truth! The real truth!_

"You're just a _jerk_," Enigma hissed, coming up behind me. "You're one to talk about scumbags. You lot and your big, bad, brother terrorised my family, remember, you _bastard_!"

"Yeah, _ages_ ago," he mumbled.

"Leave him alone, whore," one of his pals snapped.

"I'm sorry but you look _exactly_ the same as you did that night," Enigma went on. "Bet you've been _laughing_ the whole time about what you've done, you cunt. Got nothing _better _to do with you dumb life than to make out everyone's just like you. What…brings you here in this alleyway tonight anyway with _these _lot? Why you not here by _yourself_? Do you have to have your _cronies _holding your hand, you dumb fuck?"

"Good question, Enigma," I said, nodding. A crafty grin appeared on my face, and I chuckled heartily when I saw their eyes widen in delicious worry. "Why _are_ you lot here?" I interrogated. "Just chilling smoking weed? Come out to steel something on a break from the bar? Looking for a typical street fight like you thugs do?"

"None of _your_ business!" Frank spat, cowardly.

Enigma and I exploded into laughter.

"Probably too scared to tell," Enigma snickered.

"Yeah, hon, and you know what?" I chortled, still laughing hard. "Because he won't tell us, we won't tell him why _we're_ here either!"

"And no, it's not to fuck in an alleyway!" Enigma squealed with laughter.

Our cackles echoed in the alleyway. Enigma's laugh began to sound just as mad as my own laughter. I saw Frank take another step away from us.

"Looks like someone's seeing some sense and trying to run away from us!" I cried, triumphantly. "But, uh...should we _really_ let these down-graders get away?"

"Not after what _he_ did to my dad!" Enigma shouted, her voice having a beautiful edge of loathing. She pointed at Frank with her gun. "But _all _of them joined in on this bullying!"

"That's the spirit, girl!" I laughed. They all remained frozen. "Aw, what's the matter? I thought you were _so_ keen to take us on, big men! Here you are, acting like a bunch of crime bosses when in fact you're nothing but cowards! You honestly think I wouldn't _use_ this knife?!" My eyes climbed up to the man on Frank's left. He scowled at me with a disgusted glare, looking at me like I was a mess a dog had made on the floor. Without looking back at Enigma, I then addressed her, in a beastly instructive voice. "Finish 'em off, but I'll take care of this so-called Frank…for _now_."

"But..." Enigma stammered.

They all took several paces backwards.

I was waiting for my mind to say kill, but this time, it didn't have a chance. My powerful adrenaline gave my feet an uplifting boost. It made me launch myself at the guy who had had been staring at me, something which I can't stand. He gasped as I plunged my knife into his ribs, so suddenly, I even shocked myself with how fast I managed to get away with the murder. I looked on in pleasure, as he howled in pain, and echoed a puppy like whimper.

The look on his face was exactly like mine when the voices took over my mind. When they wouldn't shut up. When they wouldn't leave me alone. His eyes were tightly shut, tears sprinting down his pink cheeks, making his dirty sideburns gleam with red water. It was so empowering to know I was giving someone a taste of my own horrific medicine. It was hilarious. So hilarious that I couldn't control my cackles as I lunged the knife out of him, saw him clatter down, powerless at my feet, and kick him in the head.

I left him to rot and die at my feet as I smiled up at his three wannabe criminal friends, two of which were staggering quickly away from my attack, and Frank pinning himself against the wall, his face bleeding with horror and, more delightfully, shock.

"Hey, you two!" I called, in hysterical insanity after them. "Don't leave now, we're only just getting _started_ on showing you shouldn't _underestimate_ me!"

"I gotcha!" Enigma cried behind me.

Without even looking back at her, I knew immediately she was going to load her gun, and I was right. I heard that wonderful clicking of the loading gun, pierce my pumping eardrums, and without even getting a second to take it in, two bullets soared past my right, which I dodged out of the way for, as the two guys were far out on my right side, foolishly, very close together. In fact, like pathetic, frightened little children running from a miniscule spider on the wall, they were almost clinging onto each other, running down to the end of the alleyway, attempting to escape our sights.

Alas, Enigma successfully shot both of them down with her first two bullets. They died silently. I darted around and stared at a smug Enigma, who lowered the gun to her side. I raised my bushy eyebrows in astonishment.

"Good shot, girl," I praised, still giggling. "Not bad for...for just a little beginner, a mad redhead."

"Well, I was getting fucking _sick_ of them," she mumbled. "Trying to think we're not for real."

We then, simultaneously, looked at Frank. I glared at him, with gleaming, threatening eyes.

"I wouldn't think about moving," I threatened, remorseless.

"You..._you_..." he grunted.

"Yes...me. Think I'm not dangerous _now_, huh?!"

"You're...you're such a..."

"Ooh, I'm a what? Write all this down, Niggy! I can't wait to hear all the insults I've been called a thousand times!"

"You're a sick bitch!" he screamed.

"That's a _new_ one," I scoffed, sarcastically.

"You're heartless!"

"Thank you."

"Look at what you've done!"

"I know."

"Look at what _you've _done, you douchebag!" Enigma yelled.

"How...how _could_ you...?" Frank huffed at me.

"What happened to the big man, huh?" I scolded. "I can still see you're _trying_ to be, by having the guts not to run away, but it still seems to me like the little _boy_ has arrived!"

I squealed with laughter into his face. He grunted loudly, and suddenly his hands grabbed my neck, making me cackle, mockingly. He swiftly spun me around, and then had me jammed against the wall by my throat, replacing where he had been. He was still a laughable man, even after finally making his move on me.

"Hey, let go of her, asshole!" Enigma cried.

"It's okay, Enigma," I choked in his grasp, reassuringly. "I got this."

"Seems like I was wrong about you," Frank said.

"Indeed," I piped, grinning.

"_Shut up_!" he bellowed. "I just thought everyone made a big deal out of you because you're a teenage girl who's clearly insane, but in actual fact, you were nothing to worry about...but oh _hell_, was I wrong. You are just as _evil_ as he is!"

"And you're just as idiotic as the rest of the _damn_ world," I snarled.

"I said to the remaining crime bosses that if _ever_ I crossed you, I'd take you down easily, because–"

"Wait...are you a _crime boss_?" I gasped in delight.

"_I'm_ not, but my big brother is."

"You're just as horrid brother who held a _gun _to my dad, and for some reason _isn't _here right now!" Enigma sneered.

"He worked with Salvatore Maroni," Frank went on, "the guy who agreed to a deal with The Joker and lost _half_ his money and then _died_ in a car crash because of Harvey Dent!"

"So you know a lot about _crime_, do ya?" I ridiculed him. "Such a wonderful role model you are."

"You _do_ realise everyone's on _your_ tracks now they've dealt with The Joker and he's in Arkham, staying out of trouble?"

"Oh _really_?" I gasped, my voice flooding with sarcasm. "You _really _think I didn't know?!"

"My brother made an announcement on the TV this early afternoon, on GCN, perhaps neither of you saw it?"

"No," Enigma and I both said.

"He said, after losing half of the money, thanks to _you_ and that _lunatic clown_...we're _so_ desperate for revenge on you freaks. And so, on behalf of Salvatore Maroni, he said to the news, that whoever can bring you to him and the mob, dead _or _alive…I mean _whoever_…gets rewarded by him."

"Rewarded?" I guffawed. "With _what_? Money?!"

"Yes," Frank said. "A _lot_ of money."

"That's _ridiculous_!" I cried. "Isn't that something they did in 16th century England?! Reward people for tracking down a criminal?! And didn't The Joker come with a reward _anyway_? If he lost a load of your dollars, why would your _big _brother give away the rest of his money _away_?!"

"You didn't let me finish, loud-mouth," he snapped. "If you haven't forgotten, the crime bosses aren't exactly _happy_ with The Joker at the moment. Because of him _so many_ of their leading bosses died. Many of me and my brother's _friends_. The mob lost half their money because Joker broke his word to kill the Batman. He's nothing but a manipulative, insane, murderous freak. He's a criminal that kills criminals. Plus, the _cops _wanted him gone just as much as us, and now he's where he belongs, in an asylum, along with his loony lover Harley Quinn, and even the _cops _are looking for his other accomplice, _you_. I think it's the first time the cops and the crime family have wanted the same thing."

"I'm no _accomplice_," I snarled, seeing Frank's face turn red.

I felt the anger crawl into my head, causing it to pound furiously. I scowled at the man in front of me. The fact that enemies were working together made my blood start to bubble in my throbbing veins. My head started propelling out of control in its usual unpredictable suddenness.

"And so, the bosses, with my brother's help, are trying to get their money back by kicking your little girl ass," Frank continued, starting to smile. "Knowing the cops want you gone as well, so there doesn't have to be anymore murders, and the _mob _want you gone so you don't manipulate us like The Joker did, because we _know _you'll try to, well…knowing we _both _want you gone just makes this easier to get all of our money back." He smiled at my puzzled, but interested look. "Once _you're_ out of the way, _dead_, or alive in Arkham, _either_ gets you out of the way, the city can rest and no more people will have to die. So…we were thinking, either, we got rid of you ourselves, or handed you over to the cops, _either_ way we get our revenge, because you'll be _gone_."

"You're so _fake_!" Enigma yelled. "You're such a fake person, you're a thief and a criminal so why would you care about Jane?! And how exactly will you get your money back by handing him over to the cops?! Dumbass!"

"They want rid of you so _badly_, especially after what you did to the commissioner's son, that I bet even Gordon will go too soft and offer his _own_ dosh to _anyone_, even a thug like me, who can get your seventeen-year-old ass in Arkham and to _stay_ there," Frank explained, ignoring Enigma's comment.

"Ha! You admitted you're a thug!" I laughed.

"Yeah, I'm proud of what I am," he grunted. "You know something, little girl? We reckon if we handed you to Gordon, he'll have _just _enough to make up for the money _you _lost."

"That The _Joker_ lost, not me," I pointed out. "And it wouldn't be _half _of what you're after anyway!"

"I reckon Commissioner Gordon's getting a bit soft in his old age, don't you think?" Frank spat. "Imagine me and my brother handing you to him, the girl who tortured his little boy, and don't think nobody knows about that, you bitch. It was all over the news. Gordon's _so_ heroic about his family and shit, especially after breaking down last night. He'll _surely _give us money for helping him _and _ourselves out. So…if I _am_ right, and you're not as dangerous as everyone makes you out to be, then–"

"Did you not see what I just _did_, you total idiot?!" I screeched.

"Yes!" he yelled, slamming my head against the wall, causing it to reel heavily. "You two just killed my friends! And what _for_? For nothing!" He paused as he licked the inside of his mouth, as I giggled at his ludicrous intimidation. "There's nothing like revenge," he then added, softly.

"Oh I agree," I said, in that possessive voice, which escaped again. "That's all _my_ motivation is, you know. Getting revenge on people who broke me. Men, for example. All men have ever done to me has treated me like a piece of their property. You see this scar on my left shoulder? _That_ was caused by a man. My ex-boyfriend...I never missed my daily argument with him. I loved him, you know, and I got so _tired_ of seeing him sad. I just wanted us to be happy, but I feel like it was all _my_ fault. My dominant paranoia wouldn't leave my mind. It's made me cautious of men now. Using a knife is better on them, you know."

"Do you _ever_ shut up?"

"Do _you_?" I giggled. "Women talk a lot, you know that. _All_ men like you...all you ever want is _money_. It's _all_ that motivates you, isn't it?"

"You know, I _was _thinking about just taking you and Nygma's kid to my brother so he could take you in, keep you alive, and take you to Arkham," Frank said, "but now…" His grip started to become stronger around my neck, making it sound like I had paperclips jammed in my throat, as I sniggered more. I could feel the aggression pumping through his hand, as he choked me harder. Although I felt like my windpipe would burst at any moment, I continued giggling like the madwoman I am. "Now, I'm just thinking…just hand you in as a _corpse_," Frank sneered. "We'll get our money from Gordon either way, because he'll have what _he_ wants, just like _us_. Then everyone's a winner."

"Ha!" I scolded. "_You_, killing _me_? You wouldn't!"

"You _really_ think so?!" he growled, choking me harder, but I just continued to cackle, so it echoed throughout the shadowy alleyway.

"Harvey Dent would be ashamed," I tutted. "Cops working with crime bosses just because a young girl kills a few people. What is this world _coming_ to?"

"We're not _working _together," he snapped. "I'm just doing what we _all _want, and in return, we'll negotiate with the commissioner, and hey presto, the money we lost is returned from Gordon's back pocket. And _now_, with you killing all my pals, this…is the _perfect _opportunity…because I am no means a _happy _man right now…"

"I _knew_ you're nothing but a money grabbing asshole!" Enigma cried. "Look what you did to my dad _and _my family just to get money! And now you're doing _this_!"

"Serves you both right, killing my friends in front of me," Frank hissed, his voice sounding cold. "You just said revenge is the _key_, you dumb bitch. Why not…get _mine_? For killing my friends. You may have done _that_, but there's no way you're _really_ strong enough to escape me now. Not you, not that faggot's kid either."

"Be careful what you're saying, Frankie boy," I snickered. "I tortured the commissioner's son you know, and...I..._loved_...every moment of it."

"Just take him down, Jane!" Enigma shouted. "Let _me _beat him up! I can't stand this arrogant bastard anymore! I _want _to beat the shit out of him!"

"Metoo," I said, calmly.

"You _killed_ them!" Frank shouted, his phlegm bulleting me in my face.

"I know!" I yelled back.

"What do you _want_ with me, anyway?!" Frank demanded.

I paused, as my laughter stiffened, before stopping completely. The voices flooded my mind, and they wouldn't stop now.

This was it. Frank has pushed me too far. I remained unreadable in my face to him.

"You've pushed me to the _limit_, big boy..." I spat, now glaring at the man before me. "Think you can underestimate me, huh?"

"You're not trying very hard to fight me, are you, you bitch? You're just willingly letting me humiliate you right now."

"Not yet. Once you have the _actual_ _guts_ to try and take me and Enigma to your so-called crime boss brother, like you keep _repeatedly_ saying, then...I'll get _angry_. Very. Angry. There's no point making a move yet, because for some reason, you won't stop talking, because, like everybody else, you think giving me a lecture is going to change my ways. Ha! I'm not dumb, you know, Frankie...listening to everything you're telling _could_ be extremely useful to me...it'll only give a troublesome teenager like me more and more ideas and, uh...uh…motives. Did you think about _that_, hmm?" Enigma and I both started to giggle when we saw his panicked expression, his mouth clattering open and shutting, making stuttered unrecognisable words. "You fucking _idiot_!" I cackled. "If you were _that_ logical, you should have known a girl like me...a girl _eager_ to gain revenge wherever she goes...wouldn't have _something_ up her sleeve."

I gave him a cheeky wink, as I slickly carried out my quickly devised move, that I had been thinking of, as he was explaining his motive for getting his money back, getting his apparent 'revenge'. I still had Ivy's bottle of liquid toxin, hidden safely at the back of my skirt pocket. Frank was holding me by the throat with one of his large hands, the other hand pinning my right arm, which held the bloody knife, against the wall. My left arm could still writhe free, and I wafted it heftily at that moment, before sneaking it to the back of my skirt. I didn't take my eyes of his hilariously exaggerated expression of alarm, and smirked as I saw his eyes journey down to where my hand was going to collect the bottle. He gasped loudly, and with a panicked grunt, he grabbed my other arm and jammed it against the wall, leaving my neck to finally inhale the cool air.

Laughing mockingly, I rose my leg sharply, and as high as I could, so my heel stabbed his lower area, and Frank jerked backwards. My kick was so forceful, Frank nearly fell backwards, but more so in surprise. Enigma laughed hysterically as my kick forced him to let go of me and grab his crotch where I had harshly bolted him.

"Dumbass!" Enigma cursed, as she herself, ploughed another huge kick into his lower area. As he grabbed it in pain, Enigma took her chance and pushed him to the ground with all her might, which was blatantly fuelled with the most anger I'd ever seen out of her, giving me time to recover from Frank's painful choking on my throat. "I _hate _you!" she screamed. "_I hate you_! Why did you _do that_ to my family?! For your own pleasure?!"

"Now, now, Enigma," I soothed, joining her, looking down upon the scumbag at our feet. I now had the toxin bottle in one hand, and my knife in the other. "I said to you before we'll deal with this piece of _shit_." I kicked him again in between his legs, with all my strength, making us both laugh as he groaned in pain. "I hate you money-corrupted asshole."

"I hate you _murderer_," he snarled.

That's when I shot down on top of him, jamming him down onto the floor with my whole bodyweight. I immediately placed the knife under his neck and with a cunning smirk plastered onto my lips, started gently tracing the knife across his neck, to make sure he wouldn't start to fight me back.

"What are you _doing_?" Enigma gasped.

"Relax, Enigma," I panted. "Be a dear and sit on his leg, will ya? To make sure he _doesn't _try and escape and try to take me to his big brother?" Enigma did exactly that. "You know, Frank, I didn't come down here with Enigma to kill ya…" I breathed, still caressing the blade on his spotty neck. I popped a large zit on his neck, so blood started slowly drizzling down. I grinned broadly. "_Enigma _actually was the one who wanted to get her revenge on you for what you did."

"What I did was _right_!" he exclaimed, a tinge of fear gripping her voice.

"_What_?!" Enigma roared.

"Calm down, Niggy," I whispered, dangerously. "I have a solution to this problem."

Keeping the knife firmly under his neck, I lifted the perfume glass of Ivy's special toxin in my other hand.

"What's _that_?" Frank snapped. "Some sort of–"

"Perfume, it is," I lied. "Something to make _you _smell nicer."

"Princess Jane, what _are _you thinking?" Enigma asked, still sitting on his legs, pinning him down.

"I'm thinking…this man is _scared_ of, as he puts it, two little girls!" I laughed, mercilessly into his face. "I'm thinking he's just made one _hell _of a huge mistake telling us _everything_!"

"You little scumbag needed to know that _no one _is with you, they are against you," Frank hissed. "Even the mob hate you."

"Do you _really _think I look like a girl who gives two flying fucks?" I questioned. "Hmm? I am _so _glad you told me, because now I know who my targets are, and thanks to your stupid big mouth, your brother, the one who advised for me to be shot dead or thrown in a cell, is in _very _grave danger now!"

"N-No!" Frank cried. "You _won't_ hurt him!"

"Oh, I will, Frank," I laughed. "I'll hurt him a lot, for thinking he could just _do that _to me and think I wouldn't find out! And I won't show any hint of empathy, because it's mentally impossible to. Why should I care about your self-righteousness, anyway?"

"P-Please…don't hurt my brother…" Frank whimpered.

"Ah, _now _you're showing your true colours, aren't you?!" I cried, triumphantly, smirking deceitfully. "Think you might just have to calm yourself down for a minute."

I started quickly spraying the toxin into the very core of his skin surrounding his face. He started to cough and splutter relentlessly, almost violently, like he could spew vomit up on me at any moment. I just watched on, happily. I folded my arms with arrogance and lifted myself up, away from his jerking head. Enigma crawled around to see Frank's intoxication. He squirmed vigorously, as if he were a little kid trapped in a tight sleeping bag. Enigma snorted back her laughter, but I continued watching him suffer, with pure pleasure etched across my face.

Frank eventually inhaled a huge gasp for air, and coughed aggressively several times, cursing his last few words, before his face flopped to the side with a heavy thud, and he was motionless, with lidded eyes.

I climbed off him and kicked his side, to make sure the toxin had fully engulfed him into an amnesic sleep.

"Woah," Enigma exclaimed, getting to her feet herself.

"Pretty cool, huh?" I chuckled. "Ivy's a genius with this thing. I was I could make things like this."

"Is he dead?" Enigma asked.

"No, he'll just sleep for an hour or so," I reminded her. "And then when he wakes up, he won't remember the last twenty-four hours. I'm guessing Ivy put some memory eraser of some kind in this. It's brilliant. Give me my gun back."

"So…now what?" Enigma inquired, passing my gun back to me, after I'd put the toxin bottle back in my pocket.

"I worked it all out while he was telling all about what his so-called brother has tried to do," I explained, grinning at her. "I knew the toxins would pass him out and deject his memory for a bit, so when he wakes up, he won't remember who we are."

"And then…then we attack him, right?"

"Well…I meant what I said…when I told him I was going to kill his brother, and I am. What's his brother's name?"

"Johnny, I think."

"Well this _Johnny _is going to have one _hell_ of a comeuppance, to show him…he's _not _what he makes out to be. Frank? He is _yours _to deal with. For _your _revenge. That has nothing to do with me, I'm fair, you see. So, listen to me, here's what you're going to do. There's only one way to make this fun."

"What?"

"Hide behind that wall," I instructed, pointing to the end of the alleyway we arrived from, "out of his sight. Wait for him to wake up. Try and stay out of his sight, and when he comes around and gets up to leave, the _other _end of this alleyway, the way he came, follow him. I _guarantee _he'll go back to his home, or to someone's house, or a building of some sort, at _least_, where I also have a feeling in my bones that his brother will be there, too. If not, demand where he is, and if he doesn't move his ass there, kill Frank straight away, but I have a feeling his brother will be at this place. While you do that, I'll ring Ivy and tell her everything, and ask her to meet you at wherever his home is when you tell her the time is right, I'll also message her your number so she can communicate with you. I'll ask her to go steal some gasoline, rope, tape, and a few matchsticks while she's out, to meet you with, and there, you can tape the two brothers up when you meet at the location. In…_separate _rooms, you understand? _That _is important. They _must _be apart. _I'm _killing his brother in a different room to you. Ivy will then inform me this has all happened on the phone, I'll arrive, and I'll deal with Johnny in one room, and you and Ivy can kill and do whatever you want with Frank in the other. You'll need Ivy's help to take them _both _down, since she has a good kick and all that. I won't join you until later, as it will be a…nice _surprise_ for them. But listen here, Niggy, do _not _phone for Ivy to join you when you've already gone in the house. Ring her _before_ you enter and encounter the brothers, then that way you can _both_ _burst _in and give them a pleasant surprise!" I laughed hard. "You stay outside that door, to make sure he doesn't leave, without being seen! I guarantee you, this will work!"

"But isn't that a bit creepy?" Enigma said. "Following him back to his house, like some sort of stalker? And how do I even know that's where he's going to go? And what if he spots me?"

"You worry too much, Enigma," I chuckled. "If you're sneaky, you can follow him back, you just have to be careful. If he spots you, then just walk in another direction, but keeping a close eye on him, and then follow him again when he heads down another path. Got it?"

"Got it…sort of."

"Good. Now go, if someone rings you, it'll be Ivy. You got your phone, right?"

"Yeah, in my pants' pocket."

"Good, now, I'll see you, later, and be strong, _don't _be weak. We're so close, aren't we? So close to getting his just reward, and then we're off to Blackgate to rescue your daddy. See ya."

"But where are _you_ going to go while Ivy and I do all this?"

"Back to the van to…to chill."

"Okay, just be careful."

"You alright?" I asked, in a playful voice, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, of course," she said, bravely.

"You're not nervous, are you?" I questioned, tauntingly.

"No," she insisted.

"Heh. I'm glad." Enigma and I walked the way we came, Enigma curling up behind the wall, ready to patiently carry out the plan. "Bye," I said, blankly, before sauntering away, the path we came.

I rocketed back to the van, the route Enigma had shown me, putting my knife in my pocket, as I ran (which is not recommended). I managed to make it back without crossing anyone, as this side of the neighbourhood was so abandoned, that no one walked the streets, which is strange for a city with thirty million people suffering in it. (I kind of hoped they weren't roaming the streets because they were scared The Joker or I would appear).

I crawled behind the back of the van, when I made it ther, my breathing distorted, my arms prickling goosebumps, due to the chill that was atmospherically blasting over in the night.

I rang Ivy and told her everything straight away. She immediately complied, sounding dementedly excited, although she was still in the store at the time, describing herself "in the middle of a room of dead bodies with a gorgeous emerald on her finger."

After that, it was the case of playing the waiting game. I sat very quietly, my finger still tapping on the hammer of my gun beside me, the adrenaline refusing to tranquilise its waves of blood thumping through every inch of me.

I closed my eyes, and just casually listened to the voices inside my head. None of them were kind. Well were any of them ever?

Overpowering them all, was a soothing tone of voice, male, that was complete with a baritone chuckle. His gentle voice was intriguing and loving. I heard a shrill squeal of a young girl, followed by his deep laughter of joy.

I heard the word Shaylee. I heard the word dad. I heard the word worthless.

And then I heard the word Chase.

I flinched when I felt Chase's soft hand come upon mine, and although I knew it wasn't there in reality, I squeezed my palm in his. I looked up, to see his sparkling green gems and raven locks with the ends dipped in the finest crimson colour I had seen. I saw his kind smile that made butterflies start to flutter inside my stomach. I heard him whisper something inaudible, but it was so soft and gentle I couldn't give a care if I didn't hear it or not.

I then looked to my right, where I saw a vision of The Joker above me, holding one of his cards between his fingers. He raised an eyebrow to me, questionably.

And then…

It hurts too much to describe what happened next, but what I will say, is that I found myself in a colossal breakdown. Dad and Chase were telling me different things, trying to battle each other over with their words to me, and my head got too confused and paranoid. All I remember is shrieking hysterically to make them stop, until my throat became sore, sobbing onto the concrete, and my face paint smearing onto the parking lot floor beneath me.

It kills me because I don't want that to happen anymore. I'm so tired of having to calm myself down from the clutches of my mind.

I don't want to be a weakling like Shaylee was.

All the doubt and paranoia is destroying me, and every day I don't show it, and cover it up with my heartless, unfeeling, almost psychopathic alter-ego, because it hurts too much to try and have a good nature.

Being good has led to nothing but pain in my life, and that's the main reason why I went through a maniacal breakdown, that turned me into my psychotic alter-ego, because Shaylee had given up on everything in life, as all it did was turn around and stab her in the back.

Shaylee was dead.

I don't need to tell you how I feel using fancy words and metaphors, you probably wouldn't understand anyway. In the end, I try and say it how it is, otherwise _no one _would understand, or at least _try _to.

My breakdown was so rampaging, I fell asleep on the bitterly cold pavement to escape it.

My cell phone vibrated loudly a few hours later, awaking me from a terrible dream. My tears were creaming my face paint until it started to stream down my face. Laying there for a few hours was just what I needed to take the insanity all in. Sometimes, experiencing the madness is better in a situation with zero chaos. It may seem bizarre to you, but to me, it was nice to just lie and sob for a few hours, especially after witnessing Chase and dad try to take over my mind again.

I exhaled deeply, and instantly answered my phone, seeing as it was in fact Ivy calling me.

"Where are you?" is what I snapped when I answered the call.

"Hey, beauty, you were _right_!" Ivy squealed. "Everything's worked out swimmingly. Enigma followed Frank back to his _brother's_ own fancy mansion, and guess what?! His brother was here too, when I joined her with all the stuff you told me to get, and now we did exactly as you said and we have them hostage! They _certainly _didn't expect me to crash their house! Ha! Enigma's done _so well_, she followed Frank Falino _all _the way back without him noticing! We fought hard, and they nearly killed us, but I used my toxins again to make sure they didn't get away, oh it was _so funny_–"

"Where are you?!" I demanded, again.

"Alright, I was just telling you we did it–"

"As I knew you would. Enigma needed you, otherwise she would have definitely been killed by that…that _idiot_. Where are you? I'll come crash the party, too."

"66 Vale Avenue," Ivy answered. "Come quickly, baby girl!"

"I'm on my way," I giggled.

I was stunned they managed to do it in just a few hours. I thought I was going to be there until midnight, to be honest, but the time on my phone only read 22:17.

Shows that Enigma's anger to get revenge on this man was flaring up to create her own madness, almost too rapidly for even my comfort.

I guess insanity really does rub off on others.

Adrenaline pumping and eyes drying up immediately, I made my way out of the parking lot as quickly as possible, gathering my things, and hurriedly found a cab rank nearby, using my gun for the driver to speed me to the location. I shot him through the skull when he parked outside the large, picturesque house of Frank and Johnny Falino.

I kicked down the front door, clutching onto my gun, the voices guiding me to the maximum madness.

The instant I entered the building, I heard childish cackling coming from the largest room up ahead. I slammed the door behind me, and carefully made my way through the hallways, following the sounds of this malicious laughter.

I soon found Poison Ivy and Enigma in a large bedroom, each of them holding a pillow, and like they were both seven year old girls at a slumber party, they were thrashing the pillows into Frank's face, who was helplessly tied onto the bed, grunting and cursing at them. His hands were strapped to the headboard, with a long length of some powerful, untearable tape around his wrists, and his legs were trapped stiff too, with some thick, large rope pinning his feet onto the bed, going all the way underneath the bed to keep it in place.

Ivy and Enigma were having such a joyous time hitting him repeatedly with pillows, they didn't hear me enter the room. Frank certainly did, however. When his face wasn't being walloped by a pillow, his eyes widened at me, and I saw him trying to write away, but he was completely jammed against the bed, unable to escape.

It was only when Ivy knocked over a lamp, which landed at my feet, she noticed me, when going to pick it up.

"Hey, Princess Jane!" she sang.

"Ivy, Niggy," I chuckled. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Having some fun, before we get our hands dirty on this guy," Ivy replied.

"Oh, I see," I breathed, smirking at Frank. I then looked at Enigma, who was scowling a disgusted look at Frank. "I have to say, Enigma, I can't believe you managed to follow him _all _the way here without him noticing you!"

"According to _her_," Frank grunted, nodding towards Enigma, "I _did _spot her, but when I came home I thought she'd left me alone, and then, apparently, what _she _said, all of sudden, she and this…this…_plant_ _woman _barged into my brother's house and instantly sprayed us both with this weird sleeping toxin or whatever it is! And now I don't even know what's happening to me!"

"That's the _point_, numbskull," Ivy mocked.

"Who _are _you freaks?!" he demanded, making all three of us laugh. "What's happened?!"

"Oh dear, I think you're going to have to tell him everything of what's happened today," I told them. "Since he's, uh…struggling to remember the last twenty-four hours. Perhaps you better explain to him what's happened, eh, Enigma?"

"Sure, I'll happily tell him," Enigma grinned. "I'm sure he'll remember further than that, though, like, uh…what he did to my stepdad Edward Nygma."

"Nygma?" Frank spluttered. "What that _faggot_? You're his kid?!"

"Whoa, this toxin really _is _a memory eraser!" I snickered. "So, Ivy, where's Frank Falino's brother for me to play with?"

"Upstairs, second room on the right," Ivy explained. "It's a bedroom like this one, but a bit smaller. He's tied up in there, just like you wanted."

"And did you leave my gasoline and matches in there?" I asked, sternly. "You know, in case I wanna use them."

"Yes, I left them in there," Ivy said.

"Well, I'll leave you two to gain Enigma's sweet revenge!" I chimed. "And remember, Ivy, you're just there to help her, not to kill Frank! Enigma will do that herself! Have fun, ladies!"

I left there room and shut the door behind, so I could only here muffled laughter and taunting.

I followed Ivy's directions, discovering the large staircase and following it all the way up, until I was face to face with the room in question.

Upon entering the room, I could feel that Enigma was showing her own madness already, just purely by her actions, and determination to help her family, in the cruellest way.

It made me grin, and escape a low chuckle as I turned the door handle to the room where my crime boss victim lay, ready for me to humiliate them.

If only my father could have seen me at that moment.

When I entered the smaller bedroom, with nothing more than a dim lampshade, lighting up the room, creating the gloomiest brightness I'd ever seen, I saw that a simple small bottle of gasoline was planted on the bedside table. The tiniest drop slid down the bottle, making me smirk as I shut the door behind me. Locking it firmly by the black key in the lock, I took a few small steps forward, to the victim, a middle-aged man with a gleaming bald head of sweat.

Just like Frank in the other room I had left, this man's hands were strapped to the headboard by thick ropes (not tape) that were impossible to squirm out of, with a large rope pinning his feet to the bed, snaking all the way under the bed, clinging my victim to the bed completely, so he was completely unable to escape me. However, unlike Frank, he was gagged, which was dampening with his drool.

Another thing I was confused about, was that he was African-American.

My mind immediately spiralled into its usual maniacal paranoia.

This _couldn't_ have been Frank's criminal boss brother. They looked nothing alike. I know sometimes siblings don't look alike, but this time it was like two totally different people. Frank was pale, with a mousey appearance, Johnny was a black man, who actually looked like a handsome stallion. Enigma and Ivy had _surely_ got the wrong person for me. Maybe they were too invested in their adrenaline they didn't realise it was the wrong man. I _couldn't_ have been betrayed by my partners in crime.

Acquiring this raged thought, I stormed over to the side of the bed, throwing my gun aside, and showcasing my blood-spattered knife from my pocket. His brown eyes followed me, with what seemed to be fear. I grunted and violently ripped the gag from his mouth and threw it over my shoulder. He coughed and gasped loudly for air, as he glanced up at my scowl, as I climbed on top of him, now restraining him to the bed for sure with the rest of his body, and my spit bulleted into his face as I yelled.

"Who are _you_?!" I screamed, hysterically. I prodded my knife into his face, making him wince in disturbance. I leaned over and my other hand choked his neck. "You fucking _bastard_!" I screeched. "Tell me who you are _now_!"

"I'm Johnny Falino!" he yelled.

"_No_!" I shouted. "Brother of Frank Falino?! Johnny Falino, the crime boss?!"

"Yes, you crazy bitch!" he barked.

"_Don't_...push me there, _cunt_," I threatened. "How can _you_ possibly be Frank's brother? He's white, you're black! Is this some kind of _joke_?!"

"We _are_ brothers!" he insisted. "Adopted brothers!"

I paused. "Oh...oh, I see..." I said, my voice and mind suddenly calm.

"Yes!" Johnny gasped.

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" I chuckled, removing myself away from his face and sitting up on his body, keeping him jolted down with my bodyweight. "So, he was adopted by your parents or were _you_ by _his_?"

"Me by his mother," he said.

"Ah, right," I said, still calm. "Interesting."

I was watching him closely, as I towered above him. He glared at me, wriggling helplessly. I snickered at how pathetic he looked in my mercy. His reeking breath was quickening, as I twirled my knife handle in my gloved fingers.

"What do you want with me, freak?" he demanded, his voice sharp. "What has happened here?"

"I'm presuming Enigma and Poison Ivy told you everything," I said.

"They told me they had me and my brother hostage under _your_ orders," he groaned. "I know who you are."

"Who am I?"

"Jane Price."

"_Princess _Jane Price, Clown Princess of Crime, Blowing Things to My Kingdom Come," I corrected, pointing obviously at my tiara. "But I'll let you off. Have Ivy and Enigma been up here to tell you what's happened today before they went downstairs again, hmm?"

"Yes, they did," he said. "Told me _you _were behind all of this. They told me they wanted revenge on my brother, but they didn't tell me _why_! That woman in the green told me he's going to die, and I want to know _why_! I may never see him again! They took us hostage, and all of this is on _your _orders!"

"Ah, under my orders, but not my _desire_," I declared, gleefully. I stroked my knife like it was a kitten, but keeping my eyes solely on his disturbed expression. "You see, Johnny, you and your brother, have caused a lot of grief for one of my old friends recently," I went on, "framing her stepfather for fraud."

"You mean Edward Nygma?"

"Yeah, that's the guy!" I chirruped. "Apparently, your _adopted_ brother, _you_ and a couple of your friends, terrorised his family, eventually framing Nygma for fraud, believing he had some sort of criminal work within his job. According to my friend, you held Nygma at gunpoint outside a bar."

"Nygma attacked _my_ brother first, you think I wouldn't be angry?!" Johnny growled.

"Absolutely, but there was no need to frame him for a fake criminal conspiracy, he allegedly was using with his riddles, now was there?"

"What's it got to do with _you_, anyway?"

"It's everything to do with me. My _best _friend, Nygma's stepdaughter, who witnessed everything, including you and your, uh…_adopted _brother holding a gun to him, she came running to me heartbroken, the sweet thing, and, uh...I helped her to see the light. Now, as Enigma–"

"She is Enigma?!" he roared. "One of those women who told me my brother is gonna die?! That bitch who has my brother in the other room?! The one helping that other crazy bitch, who knocked me out and sprayed me with God only knows what?!"

"Yes, yes, well worked out," I laughed.

"But–!"

"_Shut up_!" I barked, racing to putting him at knifepoint, the knife dangerously close to his face, after feeling a powerful adrenaline rush bounce through me. "Now, you see, after me making her see the light, and convincing her to get her sweet revenge, she _will_, tonight. With Ivy's help. All your friends that helped you and Frank are _dead_, you know, did they forget to mention that bit?" His breathing became louder, with a furious edge to it. "Shame you weren't there, sweetie, it was a fun scene. But now, I'm kinda glad _I_ only get to see you now, like this. Like a pathetic damsel in distress!" I cackled. "And now Enigma and Ivy are dealing with your brother, the man she blames for her stepfather's imprisonment...mostly...I thought _I'd_ deal with you. You know? Why should _they_ have all the fun?"

"I barely had anything to do with Nygma," he said, foolishly. "I was sticking up for my brother."

"Whatever," I snapped. "Whether you did or not, Mr Crime Boss, isn't the case. I have, uh...a _different_ case to question you about, which thanks to your idiotic little brother, I know all about." I got off him, and sauntered over to the bedside table, where I carefully picked up the gasoline bottle, and popped the lid off the container. I smirked, as he struggled, uselessly, some more. "It's _so_ funny, you know," I breathed, almost pleasantly, "seeing you, Mr High and Mighty, all tied up and helpless." I giggled, as I splashed some of the liquid onto the bedsheets, just by his feet. "Oops," I said, blankly, placing the bottle back on the table.

"What exactly do you want from me, you twisted bitch?" he demanded.

"Answers," I snarled. "All I know, simply, is that you want me gone, isn't it? Huh? Want me _dead _or in Arkham. Is that right?"

"It's what everyone in this entire City wants."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far. The Joker would want me alive."

"You honestly that maniac _cares_ about you?!"

"It's not the case whether he cares or not, it's the fact that he's _honest_ with me, and it's rubbed off on me."

"You're crazy."

For the first time, I actually replied with, "I know. I know I am. I've gone mad, sweetheart, but what can I do?"

"Get help."

The adrenaline and perilous anger decided to rush through my pumping veins again, making me fly onto the bed, landing roughly on top of him. My free hand gripped his neck, and we both grunted in frustration, as I tightened his windpipe, as hard as I could. I soon removed my hand, instead digging my blood stained knife underneath his neck. My disturbing side spewed out of me, as I leaned in close to his face, panting hard, and placing my free gloved hand, very gently onto his face, caressing it with the tips of my knuckles.

My angered glare transformed into a crafty grin. I licked my lips in hunger for the kill.

"You really think I'm crazy?" I whispered, raucously.

"Yes!" he grunted, filled with fury.

"You'll grow to love it, like I have," I chuckled. "You know why I'm angry at you, don't you? Huh?" He said nothing. I felt a gunshot erupt my head. "_Answer_ me!" I commanded.

"Of course I do!" he shouted.

"No need to shout," I laughed. "Come on, Johnny. I know everything, thanks to your little brother's big mouth. You wanted me gone. Dead, or alive in Arkham. Either way, you thought it would give you back the money you lost, straight out of Gordon's back pocket? You think he'd _reward_ you?!" I laughed hard. "You have a lot of wishful thinking, either that or you're very stupid!"

"I'm far from stupid, _freak_," he spat. "I _knew_ you'd be the key to get our money bank that your precious Joker lost. Handing you to the police, as much as that would have annoyed me, I knew they would give us money for it!"

"_Why_ would they, eh?"

"Because I was going to disguise my identity of course, you dumb bitch. I wouldn't have claimed to be Johnny Falino, because they _know _who I am and they know I worked with Marino, who they _despised_. I would have claimed to be an average, corrupted civilian, in my disguise, who saw Johnny Falino's message on TV and agreed with him, hence I would hand you over on his behalf. If they didn't reward me with money, we would have burgled it anyway from Gordon's house, knowing he has _tons _of money! It may not have been enough to regain what we lost, but it would have been a start!"

"Oh I see!" I chortled. "Typical of crime bosses, that. Lie and cheat to get your way into power! No..._no_! That's _not_ the way to do things, my friend. I despise so-called 'criminals' like you. Do crime with no _purpose_ behind it." I licked the inside of my mouth, as I put my face dangerously close to his, digging the knife in his neck even further. "I..._hate_...worthless...people."

"The Joker is no better than us, you stupid freak!"

My eyes widened. I heard the word kill inside my head. I almost jumped at another gunshot.

Mom screamed, as I heard dad violently beating her.

My mind was propelling into its complete monstrosity again.

"No _better_?!" I screamed, lifting the knife upwards to his head, and creating a pretty line of crimson liquid streaming down his forehead. I started carving into his head even further, smiling down at him. His scrunched eyes, his whimpers, I could tell he was pathetically attempting to keep his piercing pain inside of him. "How is he no better?!" I barked, slapping him as hard as I could with my free hand. "He is better than you thieves and cheats! At least he's _intelligent_! You lot all have motives, The Joker doesn't, only chaos, because chaos is empowering, and upsets all the order."

"You're...you're crazy!" he cried out.

"We've already discussed this," I said. "You guys shouldn't question my...uh..." I winced. "Mental health. It's all about _actions_, buddy."

"At least I don't go round killing and torturing the innocent!"

"Ha! I find that hard to believe. You may not be addicted to killing, like The Joker, but I bet you still do it to get what you want! You will do _anything_ for money! And _only_ money! The Joker doesn't want money, just for this world to lose its mind." I groaned, deeply, as I placed the knife underneath his neck again. "I'm _sick_ of having to explain The Joker to everyone," I growled. "I'm _sick_…of having to convince everyone about my actions."

"Why do you support him, anyway?!"

"What's it to you? You're going to _die_ anyway." He stared at me. "Aw, how humiliating, getting killed by a seventeen year old lunatic, hmm?"

"Your age doesn't matter."

"Oh I agree, but it's bad enough being _killed_, but by a young girl, all tied up at her mercy? You must feel _so_ embarrassed right now, huh?"

"And _you_ must be feeling so proud of yourself, huh?"

"I do."

"Why do you do the things you do? You say you and The Joker have no motives, but yet you say I have no purpose behind crime?"

"You don't. It's just money. What _we_ do, is we expose the world for what it's truly like, and that's a whole globe of madness. What The Joker told me, right...yeah...is that everyone has like, uh…a bullet…of insanity in their minds, it takes one little unfortunate mishap for that trigger to explode, and _boom_, another mentally distressed and tortured soul is let loose on the world. That's what we are, tortured souls."

"How would _you_ know about The Joker's past to know if he is or not anyway, little girl?"

"_Anyone_ can see he is, you _bastard_!" I yelled, disgusted he would think otherwise.

"But how can you believe the stories he tells his victims about his past? It's all bullshit."

"I _know _they're true...because I was there."

"Of course you were, you lying whore."

"_Don't_ underestimate me, you asshole!" I snarled, now fuelled with unexpected anger again. "I was _there_! I'm _no_ liar! I've _seen_ his pain! I've _felt_ his pain! I have. It's because of this world that that pain grew and grew and grew, until it was people like _you_, money corrupted _thugs_, who ruined _everything_ for us!"

"Us?"

"_That's_ why we love messing you around! _That's_ why we get pleasure from killing people like you! In fact...it's why we love killing _anyone_! Everyone deserves pleasure out of _something_, right?!"

"What do you mean 'us'?" he stammered.

"Shut _up_!" I screeched.

"No, what do you mean?!" My gritted teeth loosened, as I sighed shakily, to try and calm my unstoppable, dangerous anger. I remained scowling at him, but raised an intrigued eyebrow nevertheless. Maybe now was the time to tell someone. It wouldn't matter, I was about to kill him in my remorseless, cold blood, anyway. "You've got a nerve," I whispered, in a dangerously soft tone.

"Just...just tell me..." he spluttered, now beginning to look desperate for the first time whilst in my grasp.

"Nosey, aren't we?" I said, cheekily.

"You...you _can't_ know the truth about his horrid past unless you were part of it."

"Mm-hmm."

"So...so you _must_ be his family..."

"I'm the only thing he has left."

"But...but...surely you're not his _daughter_ or somethin' like that! Surely."

I rose up, comfortably sitting on his hips. I watched the blood still dripping down his forehead with a callous smile.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," I said, after an intense pause, using my 'princess' voice. "Especially since you're gonna _die_. You know? Uh...plus, someone like _you_ wouldn't understand. My mother got murdered because of a man like you, you know. God, it was a _terrible_ day. _Such_ a terrible day." I leaned into him closer, again, now laying on his stomach and chest. I couldn't look at him directly, so I kept gazing at my knife, dancing between my fingers. "My father wasn't happy about it either. Oh no. Bless his heart."

"Who was your father?" Johnny demanded, sharply.

I then raised my chocolate eyes to him, smirking.

"You mean _is_," I corrected, smugly.

"What?"

"Is. Not was. He's not dead. He's still alive."

"Who is it?!"

"What does it matter to you?"

"It could answer everything."

"Answer what?"

He groaned in frustration, and I laughed hard at my own humorous banter.

"Look, just...who is it?" he persisted. "Obviously he's your influence on your motives or you wouldn't be so secretive about it."

"You could say that."

"Tell me who it is!" I remained silent, still smirking broadly. "I...I hope it's not somebody important."

"Important in _your_ idea of the world? Or just somebody important in general?"

"Just tell me."

"You're _so_ nosey," I sniggered.

"Tell me!" he shouted.

I didn't even flinch a milometer. I sighed heavily.

"You _are_ about to die, so…I _guess_ it doesn't matter if I told you," I muttered. "Plus, you _are_ pretty stupid for not figuring it out by now." I paused for a moment, sitting up, and playfully started prodding the knife in Johnny's mortified face. I then licked the inside of my mouth, as I lowered my voice substantially, into a perilous whisper. "The Joker is my father," I hushed into his ear, simply, not giving a care in the world.

I sat up again, but Johnny remained silent, his mouth now slightly agape. I saw his hands, clipped against the headboard by the rope, clench in anger, along with a frown that started to form on his face.

He jerked in a sudden burst of life, trying to escape to knowingly attack me, but the poor man was completely helpless. He writhed away like a fly trying to escape from a spider's web, in such desperate panic. Seeing a grown man, whose job was to spread crime, wriggle and angrily struggle beneath me, a seventeen year old girl, made me howl with insane laughter.

"You _maniacs_!" he roared.

"What's it to you?!" I cackled. "Why so serious, big man?!"

"He's brainwashed you!"

"_NO_!" I suddenly screamed, pouncing onto him, and plunging the knife underneath his neck again. It certainly made him stop wriggling. "I'm _not_!" I hissed. "I'm not, I'm not, I'm not! I do things for _myself_!"

"It is sad what's happening to you, it really is!" he cried.

"Ah, shut up with your fake sympathy!" I snarled. "You didn't think that when you decided it didn't matter if I was _killed_, hmm? Hmm?! You really _are _a heartless bastard, aren't you? Not caring if a seventeen year old tortured soul is killed or not, and yet, _now_, you try and sympathise with me! You fake piece of shit! I don't really _care_ what you think! I don't really care what _anyone_ thinks! And stop _squirming_!"

I reached over to his wrist and quickly teared through the skin with my knife.

"Fuck!" he howled in pain.

I snickered, seeing the blood race down his arm, and staining onto his shirt.

"Doesn't that feel _horrible_?" I taunted, nastily, placing the knife in its default position once again. "I felt that once you know. After my father shot me."

"He–!"

"If you say another word I'll jam this down your _throat_, so then you won't ever get to feel air _again_!" His mouth quietened. "You wanna know the reason I hate men like you so much? In fact, you wanna know why I hate men, bar one, in general?" I nodded frantically. "Maybe then you'll be taught a lesson before you rot in Hell. You see, my mother...who was a selfish whore, who was practically drinking herself to death, but still managed to care about her daughter, just a _little_ bit, she got killed by a madwoman one night, but guess what?! A man like you, well...a man lesser than you, believe it or not, a wannabe criminal thief, _forced_ that woman to kill my mom, just so she was away from my father, and then hey ho! He would go trotting back to him, to help him steal the money he apparently needed, dedicate himself to crime and that's _it_! Because all he thought about was money. Not showing the city's true colours, not family, just money. And his plan worked, you know. My father got back into serious crime after that, but that don't mean he forgot about _me_! Don't you see, Falino? It's because of _me_ he's become the way he is! He's ill! Depressed! But yet, no one would sympathise with him because like the rest of judgemental society, all they see is a psychopathic clown maniac. _I_ don't. I see a father crying out for his daughter again, that's what I see, and now I'm _back_, I'm going to support him in every way! Does _that_ make me crazy? _Huh_? Because you know what? I got so _tired_ of seeing my father sad, now he's a lot happier!" I cackled psychotically. "People like you wouldn't understand though," I went on. "People like you just, uh...thieve and rape women? Right?"

"Bullshit!"

"Is it though? Don't lay there, near death, and tell me you've _never_ mistreated a woman."

"No!" Johnny growled under my breath, furiously.

"I _won't_...believe it," I spat.

"You can believe what you _want_," he hissed.

"You know...no one in this world would sympathise with _me_...even after hearing the _true_ reason I lost my mind."

My mind told me to start cutting my signature pattern on his bony shoulder, and when I saw he was wearing a buttoned shirt, I started excitedly unbuttoning it, giggling hysterically.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?!" he cried out, starting to squirm vigorously again.

As soon as I'd revealed his hard chest and bare stomach, covered in ugly scars and marks already, I backhanded his face, which was soaked in putrid sweat, in my outburst of unpredictable anger. The knife in my hand made a long cut appear down the side of his cheek during the backhand to his face, and he grunted loudly, actually escaping a small whimper. I laughed triumphantly.

"Not so tough now, are we?!" I squealed in delight, looking adoringly at his red mark oozing blood down his face. He groaned in agony again, and I made him look at me with my knife, forcefully pushing his head towards me with the blade, only creating more blood. "Shh, shh," I hissed. "Calm down, baby."

Remembering Ivy's seductive behaviour towards her victim, a light bulb flickered above my head, before smirking, viciously, and beginning to wander my hands over his chest, in a lustful manner. This conveniently added to the disturbing story I had in mind anyhow. It wasn't just The Joker's influence on me with his demented stories, my mind was instructing me to be as vile and sick as possible, to make sure I had full control in this situation, even over a crime boss, and my knowledge would outwit his, in reality, dim-witted mind.

"Wha...what are you doing?" he breathed, out of breath from struggling.

"Shh," I soothed, still letting my hands snake over his body, my face inches away from his. "It's okay. I do this all the time," I bluffed.

"What?" he inquired. "Be insane?"

"No," I spat. "I mean...be kind towards my prey. The victims who _deserve_ it most, are lucky devils, they get the knife." I traced it up to the top of his shoulder, pushing his shirt back to reveal his bare skin. "You know...I really _am_ an unlucky soul, Falino. Been tortured all my life in so many different ways...the _worst_, however, was a few weeks ago. I was pushed into a narrow path in my ex-boyfriend's back garden...by a man...who quite obviously was money corrupted. I knew that because he was working with us at the time. I knew his purpose in the gang was so he could get money...but just for laughs, he decides to have a bit of fun with pitiful Princess Jane, but instead of..._seducing_ me..." I lowered my free hand to his crotch, where I smiled as his eyes opened with sudden interest. "He pulls me by my hair and drags me to the end of the path...calls me every _terrible_ name you could think of...beats me…and just like that..._takes_ me. Without my consent. Oh...it was _terrible_. But you know who this man was?" I thought hard to make the story more interesting, and to be completely honest, I despised to think about Theo Hatchett anymore. Even mentioning his name would have caused me to vomit. "My ex's father," I made up. "He did it to me...I cried to my heart's content because he wouldn't stop." I squeezed his crotch gently, making him wince in disturbance again. I chuckled, darkly. "So I _killed_ him when I managed to get away from his grasp. Through the head. Again and again and _again_." I nodded, enthusiastically again, sniggering at remembering the happy moment. "Oh, my daddy went mad," I went on. "_Very_ mad. At me, too. Said I should be stronger than that. Said I should learn to fight harder." I nodded again, slowly finding his straining member, and started to tug upon it gently, whilst underneath his pants. "He was right. That's why I'm cautious of men now. _That's_ why I hate them. I don't like them unless they have a smart and fast mind, and ever since that day, all I've been doing is regaining my strength and now..._ta-dah_!" I dug the tip of the blade as hard as I could into his left shoulder. "Here...I...am," I whispered, my voice investing itself into the madness again.

"Bitch!" he yelled. "Get off me! Bitch! _Bitch_!"

"You don't have any idea how many times I've been called that," I giggled.

"Stop!" he pleaded. "Stop, you insane bitch!"

"No."

The carving of his Princess Jane scar begun. My tongue flopped open my bottom lip, like a curious dog. My bottom lip was pumping adrenaline through my throbbing pulse. The tongue had only come out, because I did it when I concentrated as a kid, drawing a picture, and for some reason it came back to me.

Johnny continuously cursed me with the same boring insults, as I splattered a heaving scar down his shoulder to the tip of where his lanky arm began. It was difficult to perfect, having to burst a larger number of blood vessels, as Johnny's seemed to be made of steel compared to the feeble boy Jimmy Junior. Eventually seeing the blood spill down his arm, as my scar formed, made my smile become broader. The insane laughter was tickling the back of my throat, as finally, Johnny could no longer hold back his humiliating howl of excruciating pain, and it pierced throughout the walls of the confined bedroom, when I finalised my mark, pricking the end of the scar, accompanying it with a cheerful high note of pleasure.

Now laughing crazily, I pushed his head down with all the strength in me, so his arms would not start to push me away. Johnny Falino was now caked in his own blood, he was almost nipping the drops as the streams down his head fell to his mouth.

"You...you _maniac_!" he shouted.

"Thanks," I sneered, bringing the knife to his throat and locking it into the crease in his neck where it had previously been. "Now, I was planning on making a pretty carved pattern into your neck next, but now...I'm thinking of something _much_ more fun before you die."

Ivy's seductive nature pricked my ears for a vile act to come out of me. I snickered, lowering my hand to his pants and tugging upon his member again. He started to squirm, frantically again.

"No!" he grunted, still squishing his eyes shut from the pain on his shoulder.

"No?!" I gasped, in fake surprise.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Anything but that! You...you can't be _that_ sick you would _seduce_ me, and then kill me, would you?! I'd rather _die_ than...than..."

"You'd rather _die_ than fuck me?" I gasped again, whimpering in pretend disappointment.

"Die than be humiliated by complying to _that_ sick move!"

"I hate to break it to ya, but I _have_ just humiliated you for at least ten minutes," I sniggered. "What could be worse? What harm can it do? Besides, looking at how fed up you are, I'm guessing you haven't had a lot of women recently."

"I'm married."

"Ah, but that don't mean you have a good sex life, does it? It must be bad, since your wife isn't home right now."

I laughed, cold-heartedly. I chuckled when he had no answer for that one. My hands, now the knife joining in, messaged his exposed chest, my fingers tapping impatiently on his hard surface. They made their way down to his straining lower area again, where he flinched so animatedly, it made me burst into scolding laughter.

"No!" he barked again. "You won't make me! Just kill me and get out of my face!"

"Ooh, hoo..." I chortled. "Wait until the crime families find out...their man Johnny Falino...begged a _seventeen year old_ for his own…sorry…_death_." I stopped my wandering hands, and sharply soared up to his face again, the knife underneath his neck, and my other hand pushing down his head, greased in sweat. "You know..." I breathed, in that demonic voice, sounding scarily like my father. "I was planning...to slit your gammy throat while you fucked me...to see if I could submit the little boy to my will...but...seeing as you've shown me, that in fact, _not_ all men are the same in terms of complying to a seductive little imp in a princess outfit...and you'd be the disappointing first, by the way...I think I may do this in…an explosive way instead."

I glanced to my right, where I smirked widely at spotting a box of matches that had been left there, next to the bottle of gasoline Ivy had left for me. I noticed them when I first entered, and I was pleased that Ivy had done exactly what I said and left them there.

Before I climbed off him, I firstly nibbled on his neck, just to provoke him and purposely arouse him. I left a black lipstick stain on his neck before briefly cutting his other wrist, and finally climbing off him. He groaned again in pain, and squirmed around. I could still see the humiliation in his face and in his aggravated whimpers, which was like church bells to my ears.

"What...whatever you're planning to do beyond me...you won't get much further..." he panted.

"And here I thought you would _appreciate_ my acts of criminality," I said, picking up the box of matches. I threw them into the air and caught them skilfully in one hand. "Obviously not, or you wouldn't want me _dead_, would you, you cunt? And it's plainly obvious to me that all you care about is your stupid little ego and your money and that's it. Even before death, you plead not for me to seduce you because it'd be too humiliating...shows how egotistical you are, huh?" I replaced my precious knife with the bottle of dangerous gasoline. "You know...this reminds me of something," I said.

"What?" he spat, irritably. It was almost like he was impatient for his death to come to him.

"This is like that scene...from that book I read in middle school." I nipped the top off and started to splash the liquid around his bed, pacing around it like a lioness, taking my time with every stride. His death was worth the time, as I hated him with every fibre of my soul. It didn't matter if I'd only known him for a matter of minutes. "Ooh, what was it _called_?" I went on, still splashing the gasoline around him so the bed was drowning in it. "Uhh...it's about a schizophrenic nurse who kidnaps this author..." The bottle had become almost empty, so I paused for a slight second. I then gasped delightedly, remembering the book's title. "_Misery_! _That's_ it! Oh, it's _such_ a good book! You ever read it?" Johnny had the sense to stay silent. "No? Oh, it's _amazing_! This mad nurse, Annie Wilkes, goes _insane_ when she finds out this author she's kidnapped is killing off her favourite character! Man, it's so _intense_! I can't believe you haven't read it! The situation we're in..._right_ now...is _so_ like Annie Wilkes and Paul Sheldon! That's so _cute_!" I squealed in joy. "But, uh...Annie isn't a _nice_ lady...no, no...a complete psychopathic bitch she is, but Stephen King gets the _meaning_ of schizophrenia so _well_! It's almost like he's writing _me_, ya know?! Oh it's...so _weird_, but I like weird." I started to dig into my skirt pocket, searching for my phone. "Just a sec," I told Johnny, scrunching my nose, playfully.

Johnny continued to be wordless.

I flipped my phone open and rang Chelsea's number, who answered in seconds flat.

"Hey, Jane," she said, out of breath.

"Enigma!" I said, cheerfully, feeling the disturbing pleasure of adrenaline make me unable to keep still. I put the phone on loudspeaker, forcing Johnny to feel every word. "How's it going, chick?"

"Great," Enigma panted.

"Is it done? Is Frank Falino dead?" I asked, grinning at a teary-eyed Johnny.

"He is dead," Enigma replied. "We shot him through the head."

"_No_!" Johnny whimpered. "No…no…"

"Oh, that's good news," I grinned, ignoring Johnny's cries. "I'm _so _glad everything worked out."

"Me too," Enigma said, sounding actually pleased.

"Do me a favour?" I said.

"What's that?"

"You and Ivy go outside the house and hide," I instructed. "Uh…Johnny, you see, I was _planning _to make his death a lot more…_experimental_…you know? But, uh…he's so _boring_. He's failing to submit to me." Enigma burst out laughing down the other end of the phone. "And since he don't wanna fuck me…because he's _bo-oring_…I've decided to make things explosive instead. Besides, I'm, uh…kinda regretting that idea now. He's probably riddled with diseases anyway, and I ain't on birth control anymore. So, get outside and get to safety. I'm gonna blow this place up. Thanks Ivy for leaving me matches and gasoline to do the task!"

"No worries, baby!" Ivy called in the background.

"But won't you be blowing _yourself _up?" Enigma gasped.

"Oh no," I laughed. "This bottle of gasoline is only small enough to fill the bed Johnny is most comfortable on." I giggled. "When I light it up, it'll take _forever _for the whole room to explode, and eventually the whole house. The amount of gasoline is too little for ir to happen straight away. When I blew up Funky Fred's not long ago, _so much _more of the stuff was splashed onto the front porch when I blew _that _building up! I know for a fact, Enigma! And don't worry, as soon as the fire is lit, I'm sprinting out of here. Don't you worry."

"O-Okay…if you say so," Enigma stuttered.

"You happy, Enigma?" I asked. "Now that the two men that were responsible for the imprisonment of your stepfather are dead? Nearly."

"Feels so much better knowing they can't do it _again_," Enigma said, scornfully.

"Ooh, get this, Johnny!" I cried. "Listen to her so _happy _she killed your _adopted _brother!"

"You _heartless monster_!" Johnny screamed.

"Whatever, Johnny, you're just as bad," Enigma scoffed. I couldn't reply, as my insane laughter took over. "See you in a bit, then, Jane," Enigma said, casually.

"See ya!" I cackled.

Enigma ended the call, and I toppled over to the floor with laughter.

It was so funny I slammed my fist against the floor. My stomach was too weak from accomplishing laughter, I could not rise to my feet for ages.

I exhaled deeply when I did, and put my cell phone back in my pocket.

I proceeded to spill the last remaining drops of the bottle of explosive liquid around the bedsheets, where Johnny Falino was relentlessly sobbing.

The voices and I couldn't help but laugh at his weakness.

Not that you already know, but I didn't give a care in the world. You all may think I'm sick, but, yeah, I am, _mentally_. I can't help it if it's taken over me. What can the world do to help? Nothing, except push it further and further. Now knowing that Gotham was turning _so_ crazy that they would in their right mind agree to consider killing a mentally distressed seventeen year old girl, _just _for the sake of trying to get money, made my anger, and my pleasure alike, grow hungrier.

Gotham is just as heartless as I am.

This was my revenge on the man who considered that. A twisted and sickening revenge, but that's the only way I knew how.

What do you expect? I _am _The Joker's daughter.

* * *

**_*Evil laughter*_**

**_Oh, yeah and I couldn't help but include the Misery reference, as it my favourite book of all time ;)_**


	26. From Blackgate To Arkham

_**This is quite a short chapter, but it's important. One of those reasons being as it's a transfer to Part Three of the story.**_

_**Remember reviews and feedback is always appreciated! **__**Thanks peeps :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 25 - From Blackgate To Arkham**

I wish my father was there to have seen that moment.

As much as I was loving stepping out into the big wide world, on my own, and creating what my father and I stood for, chaos, all by my cold self, I did miss The Joker being at my side, complimenting when I did something that impressed him.

But this moment really _was _excellent, even to an average sane person, they would have called it amazing.

Grabbing everything in my shaking palms, including my gun, and most importantly, Ivy's knife, and ran as fast as I could out of that building, lunging myself onto Ivy, who was waiting outside, along with Enigma. The adrenaline was so high my force was unstoppable, and my whole body crashed into Ivy, hurdling us both over.

"Ivy, Jane!" Enigma laughed, as we hit the ground.

Ivy and I howled with laughter, as her head hit the floor, and I was on top of her on the brittle concrete.

"How was that, chick?" Ivy asked, the most sinister I'd seen her yet. She stared at me, almost lovingly. "I know you little rascal had fun up there."

"Depends what kind of _fun_ you mean," I panted. Ivy raised an eyebrow, questionably. "It was so funny to see a crime boss cry," I added, with a giggle.

"Uh…guys…" Enigma said, nudging Ivy's shoulder.

"What is it?" Ivy asked, lifting her head to look up the blonde haired girl, upside down.

"We need to _move_," she said, desperately, giving the building worried glances.

I cocked my head up to see the swirling infernos flashed through the blunt curtains of the upstairs windows. I smirked, as I knew the flames were about to smash through the glass.

"She's right, let's move before the gasoline fire upstairs gets _too _big," I giggled.

I climbed off Ivy, Enigma helping me up, as I was weak from laughter, as well as my shortness of breath. As soon as Ivy leaped to her feet, we all sprinted quickly, to the opposite road, all having the keen mind to hide behind another building, staying close together, and watching as the flames started sneaking through the small windows.

My breath accelerated excitedly, and I squeezed Ivy's hand, as I eagerly awaited the explosion to finish the job for Enigma.

Enigma squealed and buried her face into her arms, sharply turning away, as the gasoline infected fire could no longer bear being encapsulated inside the house's brick jailed walls and windows

It broke free against the velvet starless sky, crashing our eardrums, celebrating its freedom. The walls began to crumble to the ground. My stomach ached, as my laughter grew when I saw the few citizens parked around the crashing building begin to scream and run for their lives. I heard one man shout, "Call the cops!" to no one in particular, but at that moment, I couldn't give a care if the cops came to take me away. I could stand there and breathe in my achievement, the smoke and rubble, with disturbing pleasure, not giving a care what anyone thought.

Why should I care?

As soon as the building was completely destroyed, I glanced over my shoulder to see Enigma was still hiding away in her arms.

"What's _wrong_, Niggy?" I asked, touching her shoulder.

She jumped and shuffled around to face me.

"I just…I can't fucking _believe _you blew that building up for _real_," she whispered, shaking her head in bewilderment. "I thought…"

"You thought what, huh?" I chuckled.

"I…I…"

"You didn't believe I was _joking_, did you?" I scolded.

"Well, no," she insisted, quickly. "I just…"

"Lost for words?" I laughed.

Enigma nodded, but managed to smile a little anyway.

My eyes were magnetic, pinning my anxious eyeballs back to the display I had made. The fire was still burning, hopefully shredding the skin off the two men we had humiliated.

"Jane, we better get back to the van, you know," Ivy cut in, taking control in that motherly manner again.

"Are we going to Blackgate?" Enigma asked.

"That's our next stop, honey," Ivy said, with a wink. "So you get to save your stepdad, get him out of that place, and what makes it even better, is that Blackgate is in my neighbourhood, you know, where my little hideout is? It's really not that far from there. Jane?"

I was so infatuated within the fire, I couldn't respond.

It reminded me of dad and I's bonding time around the campfire.

"Princess Jane?" Enigma repeated, tugging on my skirt.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said, breathlessly.

"What?" Ivy asked, looking in my direction. "The fire?"

"Yeah. I'm not saying this because of the state of my mind, but…fire is so…it's just fascinating."

"It is beautiful," Ivy agreed.

"A fire causing havoc, yeah," Enigma joked.

"It's not funny, Enigma," I said, calmly. "Fire _is _beautiful. I've always liked it. I mean, it's like me. Pretty, but terribly dangerous. It brings back…so much."

"Please don't tell me why," Ivy chuckled.

"No, I won't," I said, blankly. "Because I don't need to. Enigma will know, anyway. Some things…should be kept to one's self. We need to get going if we're going to complete this…task…and then I can move on."

"Move on?" Enigma questioned.

"Something always comes up in my life," I snickered. "Guaranteed."

Ivy and Enigma glanced at each other, before they made their way out from behind the wall.

We creeped down the street, past the whirling chaos and fire, Ivy or I immediately shooting anyone down that came across our path. I suggested shooting off in a cab to the parking lot, in case the police caught us up, as we overheard a conversation between a woman on her cell phone to another person, stating that the commissioner was on his way. What made it even more fun, was she spotted us scampering past her, and I could tell by her face, that she instantly recognised me.

The cops would surely be on our tracks now, so it was a good job we were leaving Riverside.

We did exactly that.

We were in such an adrenaline-filled hurry, none of us bothered to kill the cab driver when he dropped us off at the parking lot, where Ivy's van was still waiting, even though we threatened him until he was quaking in his seat with fear and embarrassment, that two women (as Enigma just watched us both torture him) could do such a thing to him.

Ivy darted the van away as fast as she could out of Riverside, speeding the van back to her own part of the City. We arrived in the area within half an hour, laughing hysterically all the way the cops had no clue where we were, even though there were a few cop cars dotted around when we arrived through the bustling streets, but Ivy's driving was so quick, they barely had time to notice us zoom past.

My smile faded when Ivy indicated to turn down the street to park outside her own secluded house.

"Ivy, why we coming back to yours?" Enigmas asked, curiously.

"I just need to get something, my little troublemakers," Ivy replied, creaking up the handbrake as the van stopped outside her flower filled house.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"Something important," Ivy answered, quickly trotting out of the driver's seat, and back into her house.

She left her gun on the seat beside her, and I stared at it, all of a sudden getting lost into Hell inside my mind.

"Jane?" Enigma tapped my leg with her knuckle.

"Hmm?" I said, slowly facing her.

"Is Ivy always like this?" she questioned.

"Like what?"

"Like…trying to be a leader and always stopping to do things and such?"

"Hey, I know as little about her as you," I explained. "Well, obviously I've known her longer than you, but it seems to me she's trying to be protective of us."

"She's acting like she's your mother," Enigma said.

"I know, but she's _not _my mother," I said. "But I guess for now, she can sorta have my back, so then I'll know she's supporting me."

"How long she been doing this crime stuff for?"

"I don't know. Well, a _while _back she was in a gang with my dad, but then as soon as Harley was thrown back into Arkham, she stopped doing it and looked after herself. Puh, I would've thought she'd have _wanted _to get her girlfriend out of Arkham, but she didn't, not that _I _know of, anyway, but, I will give her credit. I do like her. She's very smart. Creative."

"Harley's her girlfriend?" Enigma gasped, open-mouthed with excitement. "Is Ivy _gay_?"

"She says she's bisexual, and that Harley is just her best friend, but I wouldn't be surprised if they've fucked, to be honest with ya, Enigma."

"Well, don't think for one moment she'll try it on with me."

"Enigma, we are half her age, she's old enough to be our mom. She wouldn't do that. She's not stupid, anyway, she _knows _I'd get mad if she dared to try and do that. Like something my dad, said, Enigma. Being in a criminal gang, is not about flirting with each other…it's about showing the world its true colours. Making the world see that it's not all it makes out to be." Enigma just nodded, and then stayed quiet. She looked dreamily out of her window and as I looked closer, saw she was biting on her nails, in a sudden anxious state. "Nervous, are we, Enigma?" I asked.

"A little," she admitted, quietly.

"You've suddenly gone back to being scared again. A few hours ago you were acting like…like…"

"Like a crazy person."

"Huh, that's a bit _stereotypical_."

She darted around and waved her hand in front of her, a look of panic suddenly creasing her pale face.

"No, no! I…I didn't mean it like _that_!" she insisted.

"Chill out," I chuckled. "All I'm saying is you shouldn't be nervous. Now you've killed someone you shouldn't be scared of anything."

"I can't believe I found it in me to do it. I didn't think I would."

"I told you, the hate you feel for someone, makes that madness start to trigger, and then it becomes natural."

"But isn't that terrible?"

"Not really. Not for you. Only for the person and his family. It's not effecting no one else, is it?"

"I guess not."

"And just remember, when we get to Blackgate, you're going to talk to your dad on your own. I'll help you get him out, but I'm not finding him for you. That's what you _wanted _to do."

"I don't understand how we're going to get in, or get past the cops and manage to get into the actual prison itself," she panicked.

"Don't worry, I've done it before," I reassured, grinning. "Remember how I came about? I helped The Joker escaped Arkham, and then he took me under his wing."

"Because he's your dad."

"I _know _he is. It's no big deal. _Your _dad is a good man."

"My _real _dad isn't."

"Who is he, anyway?"

"Somebody called Mr. Archer, obviously. My mom's first husband. I _still_ don't know who he really is."

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know. I don't _wanna _know."

Poison Ivy finally returned to the van, scrambling into the driver's seat, placing a small yellow box next to her gun on the seat next to her.

"You took a while, Doctor Ivy," I said, impatiently.

"You expect we're gonna break into Blackgate without my lock-picking devices?" Ivy said, strapping on her seatbelt. "I don't _think _so. There's _no chance _we'd get in without them."

"Oh, Ivy!" Enigma laughed.

I raised my eyebrows and sat back, relaxed, in approval.

"I have to say, Ivy, it's a good idea," I insisted. "What would we do with you?"

"You'd get killed, that's what would happen," Ivy chuckled, reversing out of her driveway. "I'm not letting you two young'uns get killed. I'm an adult, and even though I'm not responsible, I'm looking after you two."

"You don't have to _baby _me, Ivy," I hissed. "I'm _not _a baby."

"I know, I know. Anyway, let's get there and sort this whole rescuing thing out for you, Enigma."

"Yeah," Enigma sighed, uncertainly.

"You're doing the right thing by your _family_," I said, kindly, even though I couldn't care less.

Enigma just nodded, and continued staring out of her window.

Not another word was said for the rest of the journey.

My heart was racing for the entirety, feeling the anticipation of breaking in and seeing all those scumbags jailed up. I bet most of them I would see would be a typical thug like Theo Hatchett or James Delancey. I could already guarantee none of them were first-class, but insane anarchists like The Joker, or that guy Ra'as al Ghul who appeared to terrorise Gotham many months before.

I had been behind the cells at Blackgate before, when Shaylee went to prison three times when she was between sixteen and seventeen years old, one of those times was for stabbing Alex Williams, if you remember? I didn't realise it was that exact prison I had been thrown into until Ivy pulled up on the nearest street away from it, where I instantly recognised the shabby area.

Gathering all our things, we left the van, and pinned ourselves against the wall. Ivy and I peered around the wall, where the full view of Blackgate's barbed wire was seen around the old and tired front gate, which looked like the entrance to a giant's castle. Three bodyguards were arms-folded in front of the gate, and I noticed each had a pistol tucked into their pockets. We both shot back behind the wall again before we were spotted.

All I could think at that moment, was thank God this was on a private street where nobody was, which Ivy illegally travelled down, shooting a cop and two security cameras along the way.

"Okay, Ivy," I whispered, as quietly as I could. "How exactly are we going to get in?"

Ivy slithered down the wall, to her new yellow box by her feet, handing her gun to me. She opened it and as quietly as possible, started to rummage through it, and in her palm, revealed a few little tools that looked completely strange to me. The only one which looked familiar to me, was a pair of large scissors.

"You two, stay here out of sight," she hissed, giving us both a stern look. "I'll deal with those guys, and give us access inside. Then once I've taken down the people I need to get into the actual party, I'll give you a ring."

"Ivy, there's no _way _you'll be able to do this alone," I complained, desperate to use my gun.

"Don't be silly, just have a peep when I'm in action, and if I need help, use your head."

"I'd much rather use my gun."

"I won't need help, honeys, I swear. I'll get in, and then it's up to you two to keep the rest, while I stay on the grounds, looking for any more trouble."

"But, Ivy–"

"Jane, Jane." She placed her hands on my shoulders and gave me a look a mother would give her misbehaving child. It made a curious look spread on my face. "Promise me you won't move."

"_Ivy_…"

"Shh! Look, I'm not usually kind and protective of people, _especially _teenagers, but I promise I am going to help ya, because as much as you are loving this, which is…disturbing…but at the same time, I can _feel _the reasons behind it…I can _feel _your pain. Now. Stay here."

I didn't have time to respond as Ivy darted from behind the wall, carrying her tools in one hand, and her gun in the other. I went to follow her but Enigma, quite literally, dragged my backwards, where I tumbled into her.

Ivy, now having the machine gun back in her experienced hands, fired a series of shots, responded by loud groans of pain from the three bodyguards. I heard their bodies shattering to pieces as they hit the concrete. Ivy sighed, shaking off her antagonism instantly, and then pure silence followed.

"What is she _doing_?!" Enigma hissed.

I shrugged, and shuddering with adrenaline, I poked my head around the wall, to see Ivy picking the lock of the front gate with her devices. She was at it like a professional criminal. The lock clicked to her obedience, and Ivy grunted, pushing the gate open.

She instantly felt our shocked presence behind us, and flicked her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, arrogantly, and smiled at us both.

"Still got it," she chuckled. "Now." She heroically lifted her gun. "Wait for a phone call, Jane. I'll be…I'll be a minute."

"Be careful, Ivy," Enigma squeaked.

"Ivy, did you _see _what she just _did_?!" I exclaimed, snorting with laughter. "She just shot down three bodyguards with a machine gun and picked a lock like it was _nothing_! Ha! Pure criminal genius, Ivy!"

"Thanks to your father and Harley," Ivy said, determinedly. "Now. Stay _put _until I say it's safe for you two to go find Nygma. You hear me?"

"Understood," I chuckled.

Ivy then ran into the grounds of the prison, the sound of her gun firing wildly into the distance. I kept on watching her, crawling amongst the bodies to look ahead through the gateway. Ivy was running rampant, shooting her bullets consistently, bodies falling onto the ground, one exploding into a security camera ahead. It was like she had super speed, and was effortlessly zooming past the guards and cops around the building, who each tried to grab hold of her, but in seconds she shot them all dead with her relentlessly bullets from the machine gun. She was out of sight, when she stormed through the automatic door, immediately shooting as soon as one heel was through.

"I thought she was actually, completely sane when I first met her," I giggled. "How wrong was I?"

"You thought she was _sane_?" Enigma exclaimed, coming up behind me. "I knew from the minute I met her something wasn't right with Ivy. I mean, she's like far too clever to even be a human being, but she's got more fearlessness than anyone I've ever seen.

"Yeah, because Ivy's been doing this for years," I chuckled. "When I first met her, she seemed so nice and protective, even questioning Harley's mind. She didn't seem like a sinister piece of whatever, like she _really _is. She's like an excited child now she's suddenly decided to help me. She's not _as_ worse as Harley, though. I reckon Harley influenced her and made her this way in the first place, making her change her name and such."

"I don't know how the _hell_ she's getting away with this," Enigma said. "Look how many people she's shot already."

"I know, but it's great, isn't it?!" I laughed. I peered down at the corpse underneath me. I started immediately burying my hand into my skirt's back pocket, to find my blood-stained knife. "Enigma, help me turn this freak over," I ordered.

"What?" she stammered.

"Just help me," I said, calmy.

Enigma knelt down beside me, and together we managed to turn the heavy lump of lard over onto its back.

"What you gonna do, Jane?" Enigma asked, knowing I was coming onto something sinister.

"You know…my dad's Glasgow smile?" I asked, not looking at her, focusing plainly on the pale, deceased bodyguard.

"Yes…?" Enigma said, uncomfortably.

"I saw him do it on a dead person once," I said, breathlessly.

"Oh, oh right," Enigma said, uninterestedly, wanting to change the subject.

Sensing her nervousness, I staggered to my feet and pulled her up with me. Twirling my knife between my fingers, I bore my eyes into her trembling presence.

"You could always turn back now," I said, grinning at her. "You know? You could _always _run back to your mommy and little brothers and forget this whole thing."

"Why would I?" Enigma asked. "Without you, I wouldn't have even had the courage to do something about getting my dad out of jail, because he doesn't deserve to be here."

"And thanks to you, I never would have come across Johnny Falino," I said. "The man wanting me gone in exchange for dosh. What a little pussy he turned out to be."

"He and his brother make out to be so big, yet in actual fact, they're not," Enigma scoffed. "It pissed me off so much."

"Let's forget about them, now, honey," I grinned. "Let's focus on your daddy. You do know once you get him out, you will _have _to tell your mom everything." I could almost hear Enigma's stomach fall at that moment, as her face suddenly crumpled with horrible realisation. "But in no way are you mentioning me," I warned. "This has nothing to do with me. I'm only going with you for, uh…for…support. For my own personal experience."

"I don't have to tell my mom…" Enigma spluttered. "I…I can just say…Enigma went missing or she was thrown in Arkham or something…and…and tell dad _not _to tell mom about it…and that I went to meet him and we came home together…there must be _some _way around it…I…I could _never _tell my mom I was in something as crazy as this."

"If a mother can forgive her daughter for being crazy, that makes a good mother," I said. I shrugged my shoulders. "Unfortunately you seem to have a better mom than I did."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"If my mom's watching me now, I bet she'd be shaking her head, wishing she _had _had that abortion after al. Oh what a _stress _I am on people!"

Enigma gulped, and nervously glanced at the knife in my hand.

"You're…you're not," she stuttered. "J-Just a bit…well, you're…"

"What? What am I?"

"You're not so much of a _stress_, you're, uh…more of a…"

"Annoyance?"

"N-No! No, you're…I can't really describe it."

"I know what you mean. I have trouble describing the way I am, but, what you see is what you get, I guess." I chuckled and knelt down to the body again. I heard Enigma take a few steps backwards behind me. "Now, uh…why is it…" I continued, feeling the adrenaline start to pound inside my head, "why is it, that when people die, they don't die smiling?"

"I don't think dying is an _enjoyable _experience, Jane," Enigma said.

"No, no for the victim it isn't," I laughed. "But…if someone died from laughter, let's say…they'd die with a smile on their face, right?"

"Well…can someone _actually _die laughing?"

"The Joker could. _I _could."

Without another word, I lifted my knife to the dead body's face, grinning hungrily, ready to slice a smile on his cheeks, which would engulf his entire face.

Unfortunately, I felt my phone start to vibrate in my back pocket.

I groaned, loudly.

"Oh my god…" Enigma whispered.

I stood up, flipping my phone up once it was out my pocket.

Ivy calling.

"Hello, Doctor Ivy," I said, irritably, answering the call.

"Jane, Niggy, it's all done!" Ivy squealed. "I shot all of the staff that tried to get in my way, I picked the lock to the entrance of the cells. It's all yours."

"What are _you_ gonna do?" I questioned.

"Help Enigma find this guy, and pick the lock for her," she answered.

"Alright, but I _swear_, Ivy, if cops in cars appear from the in the grounds and catch us, I will _not _be happy with you. Not happy. You know what happens then, right?"

"Baby, chill," she giggled. "I shot them all."

"And no one called for security or called the cops at Arkham?" I demanded. "Called for _Gordon_? I swear, Ivy…you better be on the lookout."

"You always tell people they worry too much, yet _you are _worrying far too much right now," Ivy said, in a strict voice. "We have this in the bag. If I wasn't confident about that, I wouldn't say go ahead with this. Of course, some cops in there called for security but I got them all when they arrived anyway! So nobody knows! No one except the cops guarding the cells, but we _know _how to deal with 'em, don't we, sweetie? Shoot. If you're so _paranoid_, then why don't you stay outside in case they appear on the grounds?"

"_No_!" I screeched. "No way!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" I sighed. "Last time I was outside a prison and cops arrived, I remember how _weak _I was trying to fight them off. No _way _am I letting that happen again. I'm not reliving that moment. It'll make me weak just _thinking _about it and I won't be able to fight back! So you better be telling the truth, Ivy, otherwise I'll have your _head_! See you in a bit!" I angrily slammed my phone shut and escaped a piercing scream of frustration. "I'm fucking sick of people bringing up the past!" I shot my head around to look at an unsteady Enigma. "Let's fucking go!" I shouted, kicking the body next to me.

I stormed through the gates, into the grounds of Blackgate, carrying my gum steadily, after placing my knife away in my pocket, joining my phone. Enigma panted hard as she caught up with me.

"What was that all about?" she asked, concerned.

"Just forget it," I snapped. "Come on. Let's forget about cops. If you see one, or some kind of guard, shoot them, okay? Otherwise we're in _big _trouble."

"How has Ivy managed to kill all those people on her _own_? It's just ridiculous. It's like something out of a movie."

"Because she's loaded with a killer gun and combat skills like a pro that she obviously got from Harley. It _is _possible, you know to take that many people down with a machine gun, you know, Enigma."

"But won't any of them be loaded with their own guns?"

"Not anymore!" I cackled.

By then, we had reached the door.

As soon as the automatic door opened for us, Enigma and I both gasped to see a dozen dead bodies scattered on the tile floor. Ivy was sitting on the reception desk, her legs swinging happily off the end. She was humming a hauntingly beautiful tune, as she spotted Enigma and I.

"Ivy, are you _crazy_?!" Enigma gasped.

"According to medics I am a little, but hey, you can't please everyone, chick," Ivy sighed, bouncing off the desk. Her eyes shot towards mine. "These aren't half of 'em, I bet. There's also a dozen security cameras still around so shoot them when ya see them, girls. Any other cops or security coming by to get us, you know what to do."

"Why are suddenly _you _in charge?" I snapped at Ivy, still angry with her comment on the phone.

"I'm not," Ivy insisted. "I'm just informing you girls."

"Yeah, I've done this before, _sweetie_," I mocked. "Now you two go and find this guy, quick. I'll stay here and shoot anyone else that comes by. I'll come and explore in there in a minute when I reckon it's all clear."

Ivy and Enigma didn't need to be told anymore. Ivy took a trembling Enigma's hand, and lead through a narrow lock-picked door behind the desk, which obviously lead to the actual cells themselves.

I traced my observant brown eyes around the area, taking long strides around every corner for staff that were going to come and try and wipe me out.

But unusually, nobody appeared.

I sat on the desk, peering behind the smashed glass, opening an entrance inside the desk completely. I noticed the dead receptionist on the floor, and in her hand was a phone, the curly wire trailing down from the actual telephone itself.

Out of my unstoppable hyperactivity curiousness, I very gingerly climbed into the area through the smashed window, which obviously Ivy had done. I leaned down and took the phone, smeared in the woman's blood, and put it to my ear.

I was just expecting a long and irritating beep to pierce down my ear.

Instead, I heard a voice.

"I'm getting nothing, _nothing_," a low male voice exclaimed, desperately. "Sara, Sara are you still there?" What's happened?! Sara, please answer us!"

My eyes widened when another voice appeared in the background.

"Gordon, we should send cops down there immediately," it stated. "It sounds like an attack. What did she tell you?"

"She told us a woman broke in and killed several cops and security at the reception area of Blackgate," Gordon said. "She was calling for help but then the line went dead. She answered the phone again, but now she's not answering at _all_. Sara? Sara, please, are you there?! Please answer! Please tell us more information!" He grunted. "Looks like it's no good."

"Commissioner, what shall we _do_? We can't waste time!"

"Get cops down to Blackgate immediately," he ordered. "I bet money this has got something to do with Price, and we _have _to get her in Arkham. You _know _that's what I request! If we can't get cops there to do work, we'll have to–"

The commissioner slammed the phone down at that moment, then the long ear-splitting beep followed it.

I dropped the phone down in horror. Panting hard, I crawled my way out of the shattered window again, and leaped back onto the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit, _shit_," I muttered. "Fuck!"

_This is it, now, Jane, _a demon appeared at the back of my mind. _They're coming for you!_

_At least they won't kill you like the Falino's planned to do! _A sweeter voice piped up. _You'll be in a safer environment. You'll get to see your father again._

_But he won't be pleased if you fail!_

_You have __**not **__failed, Jane. You have done so much to live up to what you stand for._

_He won't be pleased to see you!_

_He __**will**__!_

_Be prepared for the cops when they arrive to ruin everything!_

_You better warn Ivy and Enigma now! You need to get out of there!_

_Save yourself, __**they're **__nothing more than your allies. _

_Warn them, Jane!_

I cold-blooded scream escaped from the depths of my insanity fuelled mind, making me kick the desk hard in a boiling temper, and for once, I actually followed my good conscious.

I boomed through the door they left through, carrying my legs as fast as they could go, yelling both of their names, which echoed through the endless corridors and doors I sprinted down.

I eventually found the entrance to the first corridor of cellmates, the door unlocked and unguarded, with a dead body collapsed next to it, and it's lock picked.

Enigma and Ivy were nowhere to be seen in this area, and I presumed they had both trotted into the distance, in search of Edward Nygma, now knowing they were safe with the dead staff around my feet on the journey there.

There appeared to be a hundred corridors of cells up ahead after this one, with so many signs pointing in different directions, but unlike Arkham, the cells were scrunched spaces, the size of an average Gotham Town flat bathroom, each with a bed and occasionally a TV was plastered at the top.

"Ivy! Enigma!" I shrieked. I began to stroll down the corridor of the staring prisoners, stunned into silence. I gave them each a blank stare. I could tell by the horror, or even shock, in their faces, they knew who I was. Most just gave me that bearing stare of a sociopath, some showed me a toothy grin, some a mischievous smirk. One inmate even wolf whistled as I waltzed by. "What you staring at?" I asked him, playfully.

"What's a sexy little thing like you doing here, in a place for old men?" he wanted to know.

"Not _all_ of you are men," I corrected, nodding towards the strangled-looking woman to his left. "And I'm only here to, uh...experience new territory...I should say, yeah, but the thing is...I've never been here before."

"Thanks to you, we have a chance of getting out of here," another prisoner said, zooming up to the bars.

"That may be true," I said. "But I'm _not_ going to help you escape. That's not _my_ problem, is it? Of course, I believe in your freedom because I _know_ the pain you're suffering right now...I _know_ you feel misunderstood, you poor things. I've been behind bars here three times, it's not nice." They didn't respond. "I'm only here with a friend of mine to help Edward Nygma escape on her desire. I promised I'd lend her a hand. In _actual _fact, I'm looking for her right now, along with another taller, ginger woman called Ivy. You seen 'em walk past? Which way did they go?" They still didn't answer. My gun shot up at them, in my dangerous sparkle of anger. "Are you going to answer me?!" I commanded.

"Two chicks went past here, and turned right at the end, if you _really _wanna follow 'em," the woman in the next cell confirmed.

"Thanks, honey," I said, smiling cunningly at her. I looked back at the cowardly man. "You must be pretty stupid for asking for _my_ help, huh? Do you know who I am?"

"Jane Price."

"Why does everyone always forget the _princess_ part?!" I shrieked.

"Hey, you, Price!" a bodyguard we had missed suddenly burst in through the private double doors. "Finally, gotcha! Hands up!"

All I could do was simply laugh, and immediately fired my gun, and the body fell with a thump at my feet.

"I'm _sick_ of people doing that," I muttered. "I'm only seventeen. Can't a young girl get a break?"

"Wow," one of the prisoners on my right exclaimed. "She's a nutter."

A flame burst in my belly, making me angrily latch myself onto their barred door, pointing my gun through it.

"You wanna run that by me again, _huh_?" I snarled.

He pulled himself away, and mumbled, "No."

I sighed in frustration, not moving away.

"Yeah, because I've killed a few cops and bodyguards in here I _must_ be nuts," I scoffed. "It's not _me_ who wanted to come here, it was Enigma's, and if she wants to help some of your asses outta here then so be it. I'm not gonna waste my time with you lot _alone_, though, even though I completely understand your misfortune and I'm on all of your sides, because I stand for, uh...much more than just letting ordinary thugs out of their jails for a bit. The Joker isn't dumb, you know. He's _horribly_ convincing."

I finally moved my face away from the metal bars, and stormed to the end of corridor in my impatience, where I exploded through the door on the right, into the next hall of cellmates.

As soon as I entered the next part, the first thing I noticed, was my heel stepped into a long stream of blood, thus creating a spot of blood on the floor each time I took a step. I grinned and snapped my head up, to see a corpse, face splat onto the floor, a few feet away, of what seemed to be another cop. I chuckled and stepped over it, coming into the view of a long line of rambling cellmates.

All their conversations overlapped loudly, so their comments as I walked past, my blocked up ears couldn't pick up. Like all the other inmates before, they gazed upon spotting me, in what seemed fascination. As soon as I was noticed, their talking became even more thunderous, their high pitched tone flooded with curiosity.

However, I heard the word Jane three times from three different prisoners.

I heard the word Crazy. I heard the word Mental.

The only whole sentence I could pick up was, "I can't believe that girl did that."

I was preparing to storm ahead and catch up with Enigma, that was, until I took one glance into the last cell on the left.

The man in there, was the only one who was taking a silent approach to his imprisonment, was skinny, with a black floppy fringe. He was laying on his bed, his head resting on the arm behind his head, and his other arm dangling over the edge. My eyes widened as I peeped closer to look at him. I was convinced his cheeks were damp, as well as flushing red. He didn't notice me at his door, and just remained staring into the oblivion.

Although now it seemed out of character for me, I gasped quietly, almost a tinge of joy within it. All of sudden, my head thumped with excitement, and a bullet erupted my head, before suddenly fading into almost dreamy calmness, where it continued to reel quietly, but not nearly loud enough to fulfil my rioting insanity. My worries faded. Enigma and Ivy went out of the equation, now the least of my worries, all because I saw this handsome human being, which I had seen many times.

"I don't _believe_ it!" I exclaimed, my voice inadvertently coming out loudly, but not as loud to overpower the noisy inmates. That's when his head shot in my direction and he flinched up, like a firecracker had gone off beneath the bed. He shuffled up against the wall. "Chase?" I gasped. "Is that _you_?"

I already knew the answer to that. It was absolutely him. I never thought I'd see him again, let alone in Blackgate Prison, wearing a scruffy orange prisoner attire. It was the last place _anyone_ would suspect Chase to be.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" he demanded.

"I think...the question is...what are _you_ doing here, Chase?" I questioned, unable to keep the huge grin on my lips. He stuttered, before groaning loudly, and attempting to turn his back to me. "Chase...don't you even _think_ about ignoring me," I warned, in a patronising tone.

"What you gonna do?" he demanded, finally turning his back to me, showing his rare ignorant side.

"Chase...you're going to have to come to the bars to talk to me," I said. "Otherwise I can't here you." I managed to hear him mumble something I was unable to pick up, followed by another angered groan. I was definitely not letting this curious moment get away, not when I had the opportunity to investigate. "Chase, I mean it," I threatened.

"Or _what_?!" he snapped loudly.

"I'll shoot you."

"No, you wouldn't."

"You wanna bet?"

"Who is she _talking_ to?" an inmate piped up, loud and clear, so the corridor went silent, all listening in.

I snapped myself round, my anger making me jolt my gun upwards towards the prisoner who had spoken, in cell directly behind.

"Keep talking, all of you!" I commanded, in my most psychotic tone. "Stay out of it, you hear me?! Or I won't think nicely of all of you!" At the sound of picking up a few laughs with my ears, I became even crazier, even springing from foot to foot in a fit of rage. "Shut _up_!" I shrieked. "Don't any of you _listen_?!"

After that, the corridor instantly filled up with chatter again, and exhaling a deep breath, I turned and waiting for Chase to move again.

But Chase didn't move.

"Leave me alone, Shaylee," he grunted.

"_What_?!" I hissed, at the sound of hearing that girl.

"Princess Jane," he quickly corrected himself. "Please. Leave me alone."

"Why?" I persisted.

"I can't bear to look at you."

"You always used to love looking at me," I said, with a smile. "You did because you thought I was beautiful."

That's when he managed to nudge around and face me again, glaring at my attempt at a kind smile. He sighed, sitting up, letting his feet dangle over his uncomfortable looking bed.

"What are you _doing_ here?" he inquired, his head staring down at his impatient feet.

"Well, uh..." I chuckled. "It's a long story."

"I didn't think I'd _ever_ see you again."

"Vice versa." I paused, staring blankly at this absurd moment. "What's happened to you then, Chase?" I asked, intriguingly. "Oh, something _terrible_ must've happened."

Chase finally saw the sense to start shuffling towards me, and leant his face onto the bar, bearing his green, bloodshot eyes into my own dreary orbs.

"Why are _you_ so interested, anyway?" he asked.

"I just am. Could be useful."

"You think I'm here because...I _want_ to be?"

"No."

"Exactly. Being here is like being in Hell. I _can't_ be here." He sighed, miserably, and I could sense his tears were coming on. "You _really_ wanna know what happened?" he finally inquired. I nodded, enthusiastically. "That night, when The Joker spared me, let me escape through that door in that building we were at in 52nd Street, you know?"

"Of course I know, I was there."

"You were knocked out by Harley at the time."

"Oh. Oh, yeah." I snickered. "You're right."

"So...did The Joker tell you about what he told me to do?"

"Yes, he told me that he ordered you to follow the cops to Arkham and get Harley out."

"Yeah, but the thing is, I lost the police car within thirty seconds. I'd never been more scared in my life, out in the streets, on my own, knowing my life was on the line. I thought about actually making my own way to Arkham to do it, you know, just to save my head being lobbed off by The Joker."

"I'm presuming you didn't succeed."

"I went to visit my mom in Gotham City's A&amp;E Hospital, first, you know where my mom is? I went there first, because I just wanted to know is she was okay, that was more _important_. Visiting times were over but they still informed me she's making immaculate progress, which is good. After that, I went back to my aunt and uncle's, but they'd gone straight to bed. So I did the same. I didn't sleep at all. I kept thinking about at least trying to get Harley out, because if I didn't, well The Joker finds out anything, and he'd find me and kill me, or even worse, my aunt and uncle, instantly. So, I got a bus to the part of the City where Arkham is–"

"Chase...how did you end up in _here_?" I hissed, growing impatient. Chase sighed.

"Assault," he said. "Very bad assault."

My mouth grew into a wide grin.

"A_ha_! You're _kidding_!" I cackled. "Assaulting _who_?"

"Some thug who I bumped into, just when I arrived in the street where Arkham Asylum is," Chase explained, his voice dripping with shame and embarrassment. "I don't know who he was, but he held a gun at me and demanded...well...well he asked if..."

"Yes?"

"He asked if I knew anything about _you_."

"_Me_?!" My mind raced with untold twisted possibilities. "What _about_ me?!"

"He said he was...looking for you because he was going to kill you on behalf of someone called...called, uh..."

"Johnny Falino?"

"That's him. This guy told me about this Johnny Falino's public request to have _you_ killed in exchange for a money reward…and…"

He looked away, after his voice cracked. Removing his face from the barred door, he started pacing around his cell, grunting in frustration, and in a burst of fire, smashed his foot into the wall, enraged.

"Calm down, Chase," I said, blankly.

"_Calm down_?!" he shouted, suddenly darting his face back to mine, only the bars keeping us apart.

"Shh!" I hissed.

"Don't you _get_ it?!" he cried, a tear now welling up beneath his eyes. "I got _so_ angry at the thought of them trying to kill you, so I ended up beating the shit out of him on the street, but _he _beat me back…I'm surprised I don't have a black eye or something, and of course, I didn't notice because I'm an _idiot_, there were loads of police around because it was on Arkham Street, and they were around the asylum anyway, and I was arrested for assaulting him. I snatched his gun, and I nearly shot him, you see, so I was trailed for attempted murder this afternoon. I was _going_ to! What he was planning to do was much worse anyway!"

"At least _someone_ agrees."

"So...so you know there are people trying to kill you under this guy's request?"

"Yep. I killed him a few hours ago anyway. So there's no need to worry anymore. Turns out he was the brother of the guy Enigma was after anyway."

"Who's Enigma?"

"A friend of mine."

"Oh...oh I'm such an _idiot_! I'm a complete idiot!"

"No..."

"Shut up! Don't you _realise_? I shouldn't even _be_ in this prison! I'm stuck here for a year's sentence and why? Because my mind telling me I _have_ to defend you! _You_! You...you've ruined _everything_! If I hadn't listened to you, I wouldn't be here! I should have just _refused_ to help you and that clown!"

"And be killed?"

"Yes! I should have _died_ rather than betray my family like that! I _knew_ their lives were going to be in danger, _despite_ what The Joker promised. And it made me see you again, and fall in love with you again, and even after _everything_ you've done to me, _somehow_ I still defend you and beat that guy up! And _now_ look where it's taken me! I thought what that guy had set out to do was _disgusting_, and I wasn't going to stand there and listen to him brag about how he was going to rape you and then kill you!"

"Chase...I...I'm so..."

"You know, I _really_ thought you might change with my help," he whimpered. "But there's no changing you now. And I'll tell you something, _Princess Jane_, for a _slight_ moment, and I'll be honest, I was getting into the whole crime thing and learning to help you with it...but after my aunt and uncle were captured, _that_ was when I knew. I _should_ hate you, but I hate _myself_ more for you being the reason I apparently 'assaulted' somebody." He sniffed, and gloomily dropped his head to stare at his feet. "And after everything I did for you, too. I did everything for you, even after we broke up."

"You think I don't appreciate all those times we were together?" I asked, genuinely saddened.

"I...I know you do, but..."

"You _do_ realise...my most recent happy memories are with you, and it was _nothing_ to do with crime. Just memories of us…just _being_ together."

"I wish it was still like that."

"You can't let the past run your present."

"You can't possibly expect me to believe that you actually still _care_ about me? You don't care about anyone. Not anymore, because you're so ill it's effected you're ability to care about _anything _around you." I said nothing, as I had no answer. Chase sighed again. "It's so sad. It's _so _sad. It _hurts _me to see you this way, but of course, I have to pay the price of still caring and be thrown in here. It _shouldn't _have happened! I didn't _want _it to happen! Just look at me. _Look _at me. I used to be so happy, I don't even know how to feel that anymore, and it's _horrible_. It's all _my _fault, though." He sighed again. "Just leave me alone," he requested.

"So you're just gonna sob in this cell for a year feeling _sorry_ for yourself?" I said.

"No, I'm gonna get myself out of here as soon as I come up with something," Chase said. "My mom has no idea I'm here. I can't just leave her in hospital. I'm _not _staying here. I'm gonna get out of here, _somehow_, because let's face it, I don't _deserve _to be here. I hate it. I _hate _it." A tear raced down his cheek. "I'm not letting _your _influence be the price of me staying here. I have to get out of here, and I _will_."

"Some advice for that?"

"_No_! Just go away."

"I thought you thought I was beautiful."

"You _are_ beautiful. You _are_. Even dressed like that."

"And you are, too."

"But I think it's best if you're _not_ in my sight. Looking at you, it just..."

"Brings back so many memories," I breathed.

"Exactly."

For another moment, we briefly met eye to eye, but this time, I gazed at him in adoration, as Jane, not Shaylee.

I knew this because I saw flames start to burn around me, and I heard quiet voices rack on in my boisterous mind. My feet didn't want to move. The only thing that moved out of me, at that moment, was my eyelashes flapping cutely.

"You know, _that's_ what attracted you to me in the first place," I then whispered, the vision of the flames turning my voice into the possessed hushed tone. "The fact that I knew you had a heart of gold, but at the same time, was prepared to do anything to fight for me, was really quite something. Seeing you do all that crime made you even more attractive to me. I would have loved to have seen that assault you did. It's so cute you did it for me."

I gave him a sickening grin.

_He's just adorable_, my mind growled. _Still there for you after everything. I think you've influenced him. Well done, Jane._

"Just get out of here," Chase hissed. "And don't bother with offering help to get me out of here. That's the _last_ thing I want."

"If you remember rightly, I _did_ swear the last time I would help you was when I freed your aunt and uncle. So I wouldn't anyway."

"Good."

"The Joker _can't_ kill while you're both locked away, anyway–" I laughed.

"He's locked away?"

"He's in Arkham. They caught him that night after he'd sent you away."

"Oh. Then why aren't you with him?"

"_Why_? Is that what you think I _deserve_?!" I snarled.

"I just thought you'd want to be with him."

"Maybe soon I'll see him again. But honestly, Chase, don't worry. You may end up liking it here."

"Go away."

"You get TV and free food, what's to complain about?"

"Not seeing my mom."

"Well, if I don't hear on the news at some point about your escape, I will be disappointed." I hadn't took my eyes off him, even now when he was returning to the ignorant position on his bed, only showing me his back. "Goodbye, my love," I whispered, with a devious smirk.

I looked at the broken soul before me for a few more moments, before quietly leaving the corridor.

I travelled through the next line of inmates, staring at my feet as they walked steadily.

I wasn't sure if I should have felt guilty and upset, or triumphant, at the fact I'd managed to lead to Chase into this world of crime so much, he was now behind a cell for his actions. I could see in his eyes how tortured he was inside about what he'd done, and although I made no expression, I did feel that pain inside of him.

When we were together, Chase was never this emotional. He was always so happy, but whenever he was upset, he was _really _upset, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was like it was a completely different boy to me.

I guess if you were in love someone in the past, even if you turn out to be a complete psychotic animal, you'll always remember them as love. A slight tint of that love will come back and stab you in the heart, even if it is just for half a second.

The half a second I felt at that meeting with Chase, hit me so hard, it was like a bullet tearing my sensitive skin. It went too quickly though, and Jane came back.

I don't like Shaylee coming back.

What did it take to get me back on track to being in a wretched state again?

Another bodyguard launching himself out me, it turns out, right when I entered a new hallway. He was looking relieved that he'd found me, and actually almost had hold of me, but luckily I loaded and fired my gun through his stomach just in time.

Just seconds of heated action is all it takes for me to switch to my psychotic state.

_Jane, they're coming for you_, they were repeatedly snarling at me.

The fire burned into my feet, making me soar through endless amounts of cellmates, corridor after corridor, shooting the odd security guard, but I there was no sight of Ivy and Enigma.

That was, until I found myself near the back of prison, and I burst through another double door, but in this narrow room, the cells had come to an end. It was just an empty corridor, of blank pasted walls.

And at the very end of the room, I saw Ivy and Enigma.

The sound of hysterical sobbing was echoing throughout the room.

Enigma was buried into Ivy's chest, with all their weapons and tools placed around their feet.

"Come on, sweetie," Ivy was soothing her, not noticing I'd come in. "Come on. Your life's _better_ now."

"What has happened here?!" I yelled.

"Jane!" Ivy cried. "Baby, _there _you are!"

I sauntered towards the devastated Enigma, and Ivy holding her, protectively, like she _was _her daughter.

"What…is…going…_on_?" I demanded, now up close, able to see Enigma, with her mask up on her head, and her eyes heavy with years. "Why you crying?"

"It…it was all a _lie_," she wept.

"What?" I looked at Ivy for an explanation.

"Look, it's…it's hard to explain…" Ivy said.

"Did you find Nygma?"

"Yeah, but it didn't go as we thought it was gonna be, ya know? He, uh…he basically…"

"Let me guess, he refused to be rescued, right?"

"It wasn't _that_, it was just…"

"It _was _that!"

"_No_!" Enigma sobbed. "He _lied _to me!"

"What do you mean he _lied_?!" I snapped.

"Jane, look, can't you see why she's upset?" Ivy said, even though she looked fed up of comforting Enigma. "We've come all this way causing so much trouble, and now–"

"Wasn't that the _point_?!" I shrieked, getting ratty about wanting to escape. "Anyway, I've looking for you two for _ages_! You just _had _to come to the last fucking room in this _entire _place, didn't you?! But now I've found you, we're _leaving_. Now, and I mean it. We have to leave. The GCPD and Gordon are coming to catch us, and I'm not being dragged to Arkham, not after being _so close_…"

"You've done _your _part," Ivy retorted, still trying to remain cool and collected with her deep voice. "We came _here_, for Enigma."

"I'm getting _sick_ of this shit, being in _here_," I complained, furiously. I now started to pace up and down, attempting to compose myself with some cool air, before I ended up attacking Ivy. "We have to at least get rid of that interfering _bastard_, Gordon, before we come back in here and get Nygma! Now come _on_!" I now displayed my gun in front of their faces. "Unless you _wanna_ stay here, _crying_ like every other _pathetic _citizen in Gotham, huh?!"

"Don't you get it, Jane–?!" Ivy began.

"_Princess _Jane!" I squawked.

"Princess Jane, you _need _to understand what's happened first!" she persisted.

I now saw the fire starting to twinkle in Ivy's eyes. I saw her lean down to pick up her own gun, between her green-polished fingernails.

"You know, Ivy, you're starting to bug me," I snarled. "I like you, Ivy, because of your generous nature, but I will start to _dislike _you if you don't pay attention! I'll _listen _to you, once we get out onto the grounds and shoot down all the cops before they ruin _everything_! Because…because I can't do it without you, Ivy, as much as it _humiliates _me to say that. You get it?!"

"Whatever."

"I'll take that as a yes. Now, come on, and stop _whining_, Enigma!"

Ivy was about to protest, but was halted by me, warningly plunging the gun into her chest. I scowled up at her, impatiently, and she took Enigma's hand, and eventually the two of them followed me to the door.

Enigma's whimpers echoed throughout the room, but I was unable to sympathise, as the demons were sniggering, mockingly over the top, making it impossible to not maintain my mischievous nature.

Ivy guided me to a fire emergency exit around the back, taking us outside into an alleyway.

Not a sound could be heard as we travelled down the path.

I grinned, as I thought we'd managed to get there before them. They were still on their way, being stopped in their tracks on the journey because of the incident in Riverside, wanting to interrogate the matter.

We all had our guns loaded at the ready.

I took one step into the grounds, where the path ended, and a strong grip clutched onto my bare arm.

I screamed in shock, and immediately fired my gun, without even thinking of doing anything else. The man holding my arm died instantly.

I finally managed to look ahead.

Six or more cop cars were parked on the grounds, with the lights striking my eyes so brightly, I nearly tripped backwards with the suddenness of the blinding light. Much to my horror, a dozen cops, including the commissioner himself, were planted around the cars, glaring at the three of us as we came into their presence. I heard Enigma cry harder behind me, and Ivy's gun darted towards them, along with mine, peeping over my cold shoulder.

We were completely surrounded.

My heart was rattling against my ribcage with rage, as it looked to me that were was no way out of here without getting restrained by a cop. My breathing became all over the place, my feet shuffling, my palm dripping with sweat, making my gloves _and _my gun's handle soaked with my palm's reeking sweat. My gun was trembling with a mixture of hatred _and _excited adrenaline at the same time, tingling through every inch of me.

They were telling me I was a failure, that this was it, I was off to Arkham.

"No..." I whispered.

They told me to kill, so I reloaded my gun at once.

"Don't move, guys," Gordon was ordering his cops. "Don't provoke her, we need to keep this as calm as possible."

"Don't _move_?" I scolded. "Keep this _calm_? Who do think I _am_?! Ha! Why scared I'm gonna _shoot_, Gordon?"

"Price, we _knew _you would be involved in this ambush we were informed of," he said, coming forward, with two other cops behind him. "I also know your type, escaping from the back."

"You come _near _me, I'll shoot you _all_," I threatened. "And don't think I _won't_."

"And you two," Gordon addressed Ivy and Enigma. "You're involved with this, too?"

"No!" Enigma protested,

"She's a liar, commissioner," I said.

"Price, lower your gun, at once," he ordered, in a firm voice. "And you," he said to Ivy. "You're _all _under arrest."

"_No_!" I screamed. I targeted the cop on Gordon's left. "You'll all _die_ first, like The Joker _wants_! Then I'm getting out of here, before you lock me up!"

The two cops attempted to throw themselves at me, ready to restrain me by my arms. Ivy and Enigma bolted out of the way, shooting down the path again.

I fired my gun relentlessly, as they sauntered towards me, in front of Gordon, their palms open, ready to grab me.

I was once again successful, and the two men collapsed at my feet, their bodies now oozing with that blood I craved to see. I grinned at my success, only making me more confident to continue.

I quickly glanced over my shoulder to see Ivy and Enigma has stopped in the path, and Ivy was now pacing upwards again, a determined look upon her face. I saw a gleam from an item she'd gotten in her other hand, and I saw it was a bottle of her precious toxin.

Shooting my head back towards the cops, I saw now they were all jogging towards me, like a stampede of elephants, ready to crush my success.

I gasped in shock, and shakily started to load my gun again, ready to kill, like it was the only thing I was used to.

_Kill, Jane, kill, kill_! they were yelling.

A fire starting firing up around me.

My feet grinded to a halt, under the voices' orders I would burn my own feet if I took another step.

I was determined to fight back, however, and did take another step forward, where my punishment, was several bullets smashing inside my head, inaudible to everyone else around me.

It shocked me beyond belief, even making me start to violently jerk sideways, like I had been hit by and invisible car.

Of course, the only way to block it all out was to scream until I could feel no more air in my black lungs, and crush my eyes shut, so that everything around me blackened.

Why does everything have to happen so _suddenly_?

I wasn't going to let this breakdown stop me.

All it took was for my eyes to pop back open again, to relive the raging fire at my feet, and a sudden flashback, beginning to hallucinate before my every eyes.

I saw Shaylee, struggling and whimpering, helplessly, on the painful concrete floor, like a puppy that had just been trampled on by a group of horrid teenage boys. All she could cry out was the word Dad. I could feel my own throat becoming hoarse, with how much she was screaming for her father.

I looked slightly above her to see Jack Napier, his arm stretched out to her, only able to whisper the word Shaylee.

It was only a _whisper_.

His eyes were pinned up towards the night sky, his mind seeming to be exploring another universe.

Couldn't he hear her?

"Dad…" I breathed, my voice coming out in that possessed tone that would have sent the average sane Gotham inhabitant running a mile. "Dad…" In reality, I felt my gun being yanked away from my hand, with my wrists being jammed together behind my back. Handcuffs were smacked onto my wrists, and I began to be pushed forward, away from the picture. "No, no...get off me..." I grunted. "Get off me..."

"Commissioner, is she okay?" the cop holding me inquired, leading me to a police car. "She's suddenly seems too calm. Is this what happens?"

"I'm _not_ calm," I mumbled.

"Just take her," Gordon instructed. "We discussed this at Arkham. We believe she's a sufferer of schizophrenic hallucinations, which is a cause of her behaviour. That's why we're going to investigate her cases there."

"Wait, commissioner…wait…" I said, now starting to struggle against the cop holding me. "Wait, you know…you _know_ about my…you know…"

"That's why we're taking you to Arkham," he replied, disdainfully, giving me a glare, filled of hate. "Because that's where you deserve to be. Now take her to Arkham, while I deal with these other two."

"But…b-but, hang on…" I persisted, still squirming, aggressively, but my voice calm. The fact the cop's strength was overpowering mine suddenly made a burning fire start to rumble inside me. "No..._no_!" I shrieked. "No...get _off_!" I continued to struggle, where I almost broke free for a slight moment of hope, but he still managed to grab hold of me, again, too quickly for my quick feet to carry me away. My animalistic combat skills were taking me nowhere at this moment, as much as I was screaming and fighting with all the fire inside me. "Get _off_!" I yelled again. "This wasn't _my _idea, commissioner! You know to break in here…you see–"

"It may not be, but the amount of people you've killed tonight, _that's _enough to show you need help, no matter what you say," Gordon replied over his shoulder. "Now shut up."

"But he can't _hear her_!" I suddenly screeched, hysterically, kicking like a two year old in a temper tantrum.

"What?" Gordon said, baffled.

"He can't hear her calling her name…" I said again. "I _knew _this would come back to haunt me, I knew it, I _knew _it! _Please _don't send me away, commissioner! Don't I have a right to _speak_?! I wanna-"

"After everything you've done to this City with your Joker friend?" he scoffed. "I don't _think _so, lady. Take her."

"No! No, wait! Let me tell you why we're _here_! Then you'll understand!" I giggled. "I'm not _crazy_! I'm just _tortured_!"

"Shut up, and get in the car, lady," the cop grunted, pushing me into the back of a police car.

The reality of what was happening to me, stabbed me right into the heart, but more dangerously, into my head, as I watched Gordon and another cop, approach Ivy and Enigma.

"_NO_!" I screamed, trying to bolt out of the car, only to be pushed back in again. "Listen to me, you _asshole_! You old _faggot_! My boyfriend's stuck in there! My _boyfriend_! He shouldn't be in there! He's in there because if _me_, you understand that?! But even _he's _not the reason I helped break in tonight, but _no_! You won't _listen _because you're a_ dickhead_!"

The door was slammed shut into my face, and locked.

I shuffled forward and used my chin to wind down the window, and pushed my head out, now seeing Gordon was talking to Enigma, while Ivy was being handcuffed and pushed into another police car.

"Name?" he demanded.

"What's it to _you_?" she sobbed, dramatically.

"Your name, young lady," he repeated.

"Enigma Nygma."

"That's not your real name."

"How would _you _know? That _is _my real name…now. I changed it. Legally. I think."

Gordon sighed, helplessly. "Isley, or rather, Ivy, just informed us this is _your _doing, is that right, Nygma?" he interrogated.

"Please, commissioner, please try to understand," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't mean for it to go this far."

"We were informed about the deaths of Frank and Johnny Falino in Riverside by a pedestrian," he said. "She claimed it was Princess Jane and two accomplices, and judging from this situation, it seems very clear you are one of those, young lady."

"W-Well, y-yes! And so what?" she argued. "But the thing is, I came here to do _good_!"

"Killing the staff in here is good, you reckon?"

"That was _all _Ivy! I came in here to clean up Falino's mess he made in my family! I'm only doing it for _them_! You can't arrest me for trying to help my family!"

"No, but we _can _arrest you for murdering a man."

Another cop was soon coming along to join them.

"_You_ wouldn't understand, though, would you?!" Enigma shouted. "Did you _hear _what he wanted to do with Princess Jane?! Wanting a seventeen year old _dead_, the sick bastard! And then I come here to discover my stepdad _lied _to me about everything, but yet I _still _tried to save him because I love him and wanted him home, where he belongs, and now _I _get punished for it?!"

"Oh my god," I whispered to myself. "Nygma really _is _fraud?"

"Get _off _me!" Enigma was yelling, as she was being pushed towards another police car.

"He lied to her?" I asked myself. "So…so this was all a waste? He _is _a criminal? W-What? _What_? I'm so confused!" I leaned further out through the window. "_Enigma_!" I called. "Enigma!"

"Shut up, Price!" a cop ordered, banging on the door. He had appeared to have come out of thin air.

"_No_!" I cried. "I wanna ask her something! Enigma!"

"Wind you window up and shut up," he hissed. "You're going to see The Joker. Doesn't _that _make you happy?!"

He stormed around the back of the car, ready to climb into the driver's seat.

"Oh yeah," I whispered, suddenly smiling. "The Joker."

The thought of seeing my father again swarmed my entire mind. Just seeing his cunning grin, and congratulating me on how much chaos I'd done for him, it suddenly excited me to the core of my bones. I wasn't sure why, but this thought, along with the eventual tiredness of fighting to much, connected together, to make a calmness sooth over my bare skin. The relaxation was felt so strange, but after over twenty four hours of pure madness, it made me sicken up so many good feelings.

The driver's seat door slammed as the cop took his position to drive.

"Put your window up!" he commanded.

"Uh…if you haven't noticed, idiot, I'm handcuffed." I burst into nasty laughter. "I _can't_." He sighed, and wound the window up, using buttons at the front of the car. "So…so I'm allowed to see The Joker after all this time?!" I asked excitedly.

"Just be quiet," he groaned. "You're going to Arkham because that's where freaks like you deserve to be."

"A freak? Have you seen _yourself_?" I laughed harder as he began to wail the sirens and start up the engine. "Anyway, how'd you guys get here so fast? It's not fair you're allowed to speed down here while others can get arrested for it. You think you're all so high and mighty. Plus, there were too many of you for me to get _past_. So unfair. There was _no chance _of getting away from you, but like my daddy once said, you have to fight to the very end, because that's what life's all about. You cops are so selfish."

"Like yourself," he said.

"_I'm _not arrogant, mister," I said. "I _know _what I have though, and I _know _I have to put up with it. Not my fault I have mental problems, is it?" The car started to follow the others that had begun to make their way out of the grounds of the haunting Blackgate Prison. "What a day, huh?" I chuckled. "What a chaotic day it's been."

"Be quiet."

"You know, this whole jail break was a complete waste of time," I complained to officer. "At first, you know…I was _furious _about that _and _the fact you're going to throw me in Arkham right now, but now…I'm starting to see the positive things. I get to see The Joker again, and _he'll _be glad to see me! I feels like _forever_ since he's put the kick back inside of me, and I've missed his antics a lot. I wonder if his therapy is working. Besides, he's always got a magic trick up his sleeve, hasn't he?" I giggled. "And even though, apparently, the man Enigma wanted out of there turned out to be a liar, according to what I've just heard, _if _I heard it and I've got this correctly, it's okay for _me_, because I saw my boyfriend in there, officer. I never thought I'd see him again. Oh, I _do _hope he's okay. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him."

* * *

_**What happens to Chase will be revealed in future chapters! :)**_


	27. Patient 7758

_**Some people were upset at the fact Jane got caught in the last chapter, but...well if she didn't this story's third act couldn't have happened, and this is the start of the third act. So it's the return of The Joker here, as well as the return of a few familiar faces and the introduction of new people and in particular someone you may know ;)**_

_**I've worked extremely hard on this chapter, I hope it pays off as well. I really hope you enjoy it, because the story is going into a different direction now, but hopefully, an interesting direction.**_

_**Please tell me what you think, I'll take constructive criticism :) **_

* * *

**PART THREE: JOKER'S DAUGHTER**

* * *

**Chapter 26 - Patient #7758**

I had been lobbed into a room of pure white.

My fingers drummed on the table before me, in a rhythmically impatient way, awaiting whoever was about to burst in through the large, metal door up ahead.

I was hiding inside my arms, resting on the table, slightly peeping out my eyes over the rim of my arm, to examine the door in front of me. My hair was drooping down my face, sticking to my areas of slimy sweat. It was so greasy, I could have rung it out of the ends.

Surrounding me was nothing but pure silence, joined by a cult of security cameras, staring down at me.

I was no longer in the classic Princess Jane attire. Even my tiara had been ripped from my head. My clothes had been stripped away, and instead, they had thrown on me, an ugly orange all-in-one suit, humiliating me to look like a typical lowlife thug, like all the rest of them. A label is plastered on it, reading 'Patient #7758'. My clown make-up, which had slowly been crumbling away anyway, had been completely swiped away from my face completely. I didn't even have my black lips to pout with.

So now, I just looked like Shaylee Jane Napier again, with Princess Jane's crimson hair.

Before I had been hauled into that room, I had done the usual interrogation with Commissioner Gordon. Yet again, I was forced into telling him every detail about what I'd been getting up to, including explaining my attack on Johnny Falino and the demolishing of his property, if you could call it that. I simply informed Gordon all I was doing was saving myself, because let's face it, that's what I had done. Falino wanted me dead for a profit, that even if he didn't get he was going to lie and cheat his way to get it anyway.

After the tiresome interrogation, I was taken down a never-ending line of corridors and rooms, pushed passed hundreds of mentally ill inmates, until we got to a section of the asylum called 'Psychiatric Rehabilitation Program.'

That bring us to here.

Everything that made me Jane has been taken away from me.

You can imagine how I reacted when they started. They had to get at least five huge bodyguards to restrain me as they attempted to steal everything that made me who I am. The pounding in my head made me howl and kick frantically, as they tried to change my clothes and wipe away my makeup. The ceiling almost caved in on all of them, with how loud I was shrieking, like a two year old refusing to go to bed. I wouldn't stop either, even when they brought me into this room, called 'Rehabilitation Room #8,' I was still screaming, cursing and stomping on their feet, with the intention of breaking their toes.

I screamed louder when I saw someone new walk in, with a long needle.

Then I fell asleep, in the chair they had pushed me onto, head collapsing into my arms on the table, until I fluttered my eyes open, to see I was alone, with no one there to even inform me what was going on.

They didn't even let me see The Joker when I arrived. Plus, I have no idea what they did to Poison Ivy and Enigma.

All I could hear was myself breathing hard, and the voices nibbling away into my brain, insulting me with everything possible:

_How could you let this happen? _

_You've failed._

_You're useless._

_You can never show the world what it's like stuck in here._

Like a fire bolt, I went to shoot out of the room in a gust of panic, wanting to find The Joker and escape immediately. I sprinted to the door, only to then notice my hands were tied together, strapped by handcuffs.

Realising it was useless to try and get away with restrained hands, I slumped back onto the chair, burying my face away.

_Just shows you're worthless, allowing yourself to get thrown in here, you stupid person._

I splatted my head onto the table, and clutched my hands onto my head, embracing this position I was so used to.

They kept repeating their favourite word: _worthless_.

As usual, they were so loud, I couldn't hear anything else around me.

"Stop…" I muttered. "_Stop_. I can _deal _with this if you shut _up_. Stop. Please stop."

Like what happens to me on a regular basis, the schizophrenia decided to take over me. You may be thinking, I shouldn't be complaining, because it's been happening to me for ten years, and I should be used to it happening to me by now. You may be like the demons, telling me to grow up and get used to it. Luckily for me, this attack only happened for no more than two minutes, but that certainly doesn't mean I felt the flames of Hell themselves, incinerating my mind.

Tears started streaming down my face, much to my horror, as I realised my incompetent foolishness. I may have just _stupidly_ given myself to Arkham Asylum, because yet again, my strength wasn't good enough, not fighting hard enough when they came to take me away, and why? Because my evil hallucinations decided to make an appearance to deliberately weaken me.

Well, that's what they were _telling_ me.

They said I'd betrayed my father.

I was starting to believe, my mental problems were my weakness. They were the reasons to pull me back from fighting.

I was prepared bolt to the door again, determined to find The Joker somewhere in the asylum. I darted my head upwards, about to flee from the room, flicking a tear from underneath my eye, just when the voices were fading away from my head.

Unfortunately, before I could move an inch, at that moment, the door was creaking open, and somebody was finally coming to join me.

My breathing quickened. My fists clenched. I prepared to shoot from my seat to attack, as I was determined Gordon was coming.

However, to my surprise, an extremely slender woman entered the room, dressed smartly in a blinding white doctor's outfit, matching the entire room. I looked up, cautiously, as she shut the door behind her, and faced me, with a greeting smile. She was carrying a clipboard and pen in her skeletal hands. It seemed her collarbone was about to burst from her skin. However, the feature that immediately struck my interest, was her ridiculously perfect hair, the colour of ravens, each in seven strands, a red ribbon completing each one.

I gave her a curious look, as she sat opposite me, placing her clipboard on the table. Although she had dark eyes of nothingness, like mine, she gave me a comforting smile.

"Good evening, Jane," she greeting, warmly. "How are you feeling?" I didn't answer. My nervousness of meeting new people was quickly spreading into my mind. My fingers began scratching onto the table, my exasperated hyperactivity wanting to taste action, with the lack of it making me frustrated quickly. I stuttered a little, but for once, I was lost for words. "Now, I know this may all seem sudden," the woman continued, in a professional voice, sensing my impatience, "but I have to ask you to remain as calm as possible for me, okay?" Although I was puzzled, I nodded anyway. "I am aware you've been through a lot distress today, but that's what I'm here for, to help cure the distressfulness in you."

"I don't think that's possible, lady," I managed to say.

"It may seem that way, Jane," she said, kindly, "but trust me, we're here to help you."

"Help me?" I repeated.

"Yes," she said.

"Uh…okay…if I've got anything right here, you're a _doctor_…hmm?"

"Yes, my name is Doctor Alyce Sinner, and I am–"

"Doctor _Sinner_?" A grin managed to form across my lips, along with a shrill chuckle. "Is that something you doctors do, then? Make up silly names to make your inmates, particularly the ones like _me_, feel a little less crazy?"

"That _is_ my real name," she stated, drooping her head in embarrassment. "I know. It's a weird one."

"So…your father was Mr. Sinner?" I snickered. "Wow, what a great man _he _must've been, huh?"

"Yes…yes…he is…" Sinner said, quietly, lifting her head again. "Anyway, Jane, we're not here to discuss _my_ life. What I'm here for is–"

"Why not?" I questioned. "With a name like _Sinner_, do you _blame_ me for wanting to know _all _about you?"

"All you need to know about _me_, Jane, is that I am your psychiatrist," Doctor Sinner explained. My heart starting beating riotously at that statement. "I am Doctor Arkham's assistant, and I have been appointed to start a psychiatric rehabilitation program with you."

My smile faded.

"So…so…you're gonna give me therapy," I said, irritably. "Aren't you?"

"I will attempt to have daily therapeutic sessions with you, Jane, and hopefully we will make steady progress."

"Progress of _what_?"

"Of you, your well-being. You see, Commissioner Gordon and Doctor Arkham discussed it before, while you were being admitted into Arkham and put to sleep to calm your distress upon being admitted here as a patient. Gordon was hostile towards giving you psychiatric therapy, but in the end Doctor Arkham convinced him it would be beneficial for you to have this, which I agreed strongly upon. After all, you _are_ only seventeen years old. We've looked at your records and Doctor Arkham and I discussed what kind of mental health issues you may have, which we are very confident about–"

"But you must understand, Alyce," I cut in. "I'm a very…uh…_unstable _human being. I'm not someone who can _make_ so-called 'progress.' It's impossible, _surely_. I've always believed someone with _my _problems is incurable."

"Curing a mental problem is not something that can be done straight away, Jane. It's also very difficult and strenuous. It's something that takes time, even if the results are not completely, one hundred percent effective."

"So…you think you can _change_ me?" I chuckled, mockingly.

"I first need a confirmation of your full name," she instructed, ignoring my question, rather rudely.

"What does _that _matter?"

"I need to keep a record of your progress under your name and patient number."

"Princess Jane Price, Clown Princess of–"

"I'm pretty sure you're not a _real _princess, Jane."

"I am."

"What's your middle name?"

"Diana…I mean…Dinah."

"Jane Dinah Price?"

"Yeah…if _that's _what you're after, we'll stick with that." I glanced down to see she was quickly jotting down my fake name onto her complicated-looking progress sheet on the clipboard before her. I was still grasping onto the table, hungry to experience physical action, even though I knew it wouldn't come any time soon. "Look, Alyce, will I be allowed to quit this rehab thing if I don't like it?" I asked her.

"Let me explain this process to you, Jane," she said, once again ignoring my question. "I understand where you're coming from, concerning your mental health may being incurable, but a woman of your young age should _not _be going through what you have been on a daily basis."

"Oh, I agree with _that_."

"Therefore, Doctor Arkham assigned me to be your psychiatrist."

"No, no. He assigned you to try and get _answers_ out of me, that's all it is."

"Oh no, if there's any questions about your criminal actions over the weeks, they're for the police to discuss, and you have already discussed that with them. I'm here to help _you_, and only you."

"You say that, yet…you don't _really _know what it's like to be me. You'll never know."

"You're right there, I don't, but I can _try _and understand. Now, as your personal psychiatrist, it is my job to treat you. To help improve your emotional status, as well as improve your ability to understand your environment and your feelings towards the people around you, but most importantly, help you cope with the illnesses you have, and they're effect on your behaviour."

"I _know _how to cope with them, I think you'll find," I lied.

"Now, you must understand, Jane, during these sessions, I need your full concentration, and as much cooperation from you as possible. I'd also like you to address me, as Doctor Sinner."

"I think I can manage that. May I ask you a question, _Doctor_ Sinner?"

"Of course."

"I know…you say…your _job_ is to try and _improve _my emotions and try and help me cope with what I have and…oh, coping with what people call 'unacceptable' behaviour and such, but…I don't think that's _possible_. You see, Doctor, I've been told all my life only to care about things that _matter_, and uh…fight…for what _I_ believe in, but I'm afraid there's not even a _handful _of things that matter to me anymore."

"That's why it's my job to understand why you feel this way."

"So does this whole…_therapy_…thing…involve me having to do some silly little activities?"

"Only if it's necessary into helping improve your well-being."

"My well-being?" I leaned in closer, managing to smile again, lowering my voice. "You mean…you're not gonna _judge_ me…like what everyone else does?"

"It's not my job to judge."

"I _like _you! Hmm. You're very, uh, passionate about your _job_, aren't you?"

"I always have been."

"_I'm_ passionate about my job, too." I nodded, enthusiastically, making Doctor Sinner display a little uncomfortable smile back. I sniggered. "That means we have something in common. Can I ask you something else, Doctor Sinner?"

"Yes?"

I glanced around the room, firstly, to make sure this was really happening, and it wasn't one of my hallucinations, or even I was still asleep and was having an odd nightmare. I blinked hard to try and awake, but when I squinted my brown orbs open again, Doctor Sinner was there, smiling pleasantly, keenly awaiting a question. Usually, if I was experiencing a hallucination, my vision would be nothing but pixels. Leaning in closer again, I gave her one of my special stares, to make her aware of what exactly she was dealing with.

"My…my makeup…" I began. "Why have you taken it off? And what happened to my clothes, and…and will I get to see The Joker again?" With a sudden sparkle of hope, I rose from my seat. "Will I?!" I squeaked.

"Jane, Jane…please, sit down…and calm down," Doctor Sinner instructed, remaining surprisingly calm.

Slowly taking a seat again, I couldn't stop fidgeting, twiddling my fingers around with each other, as I gazed, wide-eyed around my new environment. My feet shuffled underneath my seat. I coughed loudly, to try and distract myself, but of course nothing could help. I looked back at Doctor Sinner, glaring at her with my fiery intolerant stare.

_Looks like she'll be a difficult one to crack, Jane._

"So…will I?" I asked.

"Not during sessions, and during the day, you will not be able to see him," Doctor Sinner said. "But maybe during meal times and break times, you may find him in the cafeteria or in our outside area."

My face, etched with annoyance, slowly creased into and expression of disturbing excitement. My elbows shuffled on the table, until I was leaning as close as I could to Sinner, who still looked primarily unreadable in her face, but I saw in her eyes that glimmer of uncomfortableness.

"I've missed him _so_ much," I breathed, rising to my feet again. "But…we all have dinner together? All the mentally ill prisoners have meal times together? _Really_? Is that a _thing_?"

"All inmates have three meals a day in the cafeteria we provide," Doctor Sinner told me.

"And all at the _same_ time?!"

"Yes, but, cops and guards are there at all times."

"They won't be there to stop me from seeing him!"

"Please, Jane, please…sit down." I groaned and slumped back onto my seat, although I still couldn't help but display my excitement by grinning hugely. "As for your makeup, as you are _my _patient, I decided you should have it removed."

"_Why_?" I demanded.

"Because the makeup makes your expressions more unreadable for me to examine," she stated.

"That's not true," I interrupted. "Everyone can see my anger or adrenaline or _whatever_, _with _or _without _my makeup! And you talked about _emotions_? I feel _so _uncomfortable…like _this_…right _now_!"

"Jane, another thing you must understand, is that _I _am your psychiatrist–"

"Therefore, you _have _to tell me what to do, huh?"

"I am just giving you what I think is best."

"Fine. Fine, whatever, but you'll soon realise you're _wrong _and you'll let me wear it again."

"I believe that now, just as you are, dressed this way, you are no different."

"But you don't _know _me."

"I would just like to see your expressions clearer," she said, still calm.

"I don't _have _many expression," I bluffed.

Doctor Sinner looked at me for a tediously long while. At the same time, she scribbled down some microscopic notes, while keeping her observant eyes locked onto my scowling face.

After finishing what seemed like a chapter of a best-selling novel, she looked up at me again, pulling herself further up to the table, and cupping her hands together.

"I must say, Jane," she said, "for a girl of seventeen, your speech and intelligence seem quite remarkable, yet you still somehow manage to maintain the typical voice of a teenage girl, like yourself."

"Is that a…good thing?"

"Most certainly. Anyway, Jane, we're getting off-track. Let's begin. Now your patient number is 7758, you must remember that."

"Why?"

"Because it is important for your therapeutic sessions."

"Huh. May I ask, Doctor Sinner, how long is this rehabilitation thing going to _last_ for? Because…I wanna get it over and _done_ with so I can be a free girl again. I'll, uh…I'll get very…_upset _and distressed if I don't have a taste of action for a long period of time."

"I understand that, but that's why I'm _here_, Jane, to help you cope through that."

"So, let me get this straight. You're telling _me_, a girl with ADHD, I don't get _any _spare time outside, so I'm not having to _focus_ on being inside and talking?"

"You will have fresh air and breaks outside, with all the other inmates at certain times, yes."

"But I'm _guessing _you lot run this place like a school, so if I start fighting with someone who gets in my face, because it happens _everywhere _I go…_guaranteed_…I'll get into trouble for it."

"I think after a few of these sessions, you won't feel the need to be violent or show your feeling through that kind of behaviour anymore, Jane."

I exploded into mocking laughter, but Doctor Sinner, was yet again, not fazed by my maniacal laughter.

"Oh! Oh _we'll _see!" I jeered. "We'll see, won't we?"

"It's my job," she said, importantly. "I'm very good at my job."

"Your job? Is that what they call it?"

"Now, firstly, Jane, what we need to discuss is your medical history, and its effects on you," Doctor Sinner said, taking her pen between her fingers.

"I thought you would already _know _about that," I chuckled, nervously, desperate not to talk about my mental problems. "I thought good old Commissioner Gordon would have told you that."

"Well, you just told me you have ADHD," she replied, starting to quickly write down notes. "How old were you when you were diagnosed with that, Jane?"

"Uh…" I fumbled, starting to dance in my seat, and my handcuffs making clattering noises. Doctor Sinner drowned me with those expectant snakelike eyes. "Just like _that_, huh?" I chuckled. "Just like that, rolling _straight away_ into personal questions. I…I'd rather not talk about this, Doctor Sinner. It may upset you, with how many things have _destroyed_ my life, and me, talking about my life, is, uh…well…it makes me angry. Frustrated. With _myself_, mostly. Especially in a…in a constricted environment, and _especially _if you're gonna write it all down…"

"Please, Jane. I told you, you _must _cooperate as much as you can with me."

"But you said you'd try to understand."

"I understand it's hard to talk about your medication and disorders, but I promise you, if you try your best to tell me, I can help you a great deal. Like I said, I'm not here to judge you. Back-chatting to me, as well, will not benefit you."

"Huh. I can't _help _it, lady."

"Doctor Sinner," she corrected.

"Doctor Sinner," I sighed.

"So, please, try and remember when you were diagnosed with your behavioural disorder and tell me as much as you can."

I sighed again, my feet and fingers unable to halt their fidgeting. Being unexpectedly chucked into this so-called therapy was alien to me. My throat was sore, and as much as I was feeling the scorching fire already starting to slowly build inside my mind, gradually making its way to soar through my body, I knew, much to my annoyance, I had no choice but to sit there and cooperate with this woman. Talking about what I have in my mind, as well as the personality problems I have, to a person one-on-one, is my worst nightmare, as my dreadful memories just start to immediately flood back, and we all know what happens when I am reminded of the horrible moments of my past.

"Six and a half," I mumbled.

"Hmm?" Doctor Sinner asked.

"I was six and a half when I was diagnosed," I stated, clearing my hoarse throat.

Doctor Sinner continued to relentlessly etch out notes on her clipboard. I had the sense to stay quiet.

My eyes kept glancing up at the door. They were almost swelling tears, from the desperation of leaping towards it, and being given the hope of being set free.

"What was the cause of your ADHD, Jane?" Doctor Sinner then wanted to know.

"Uh…what do mean, the _cause_?" I asked, curiously.

"For example, did you inherit it genetically through a parent, or…was it due to poor housing, environmental, or parental issues as a child?"

I sniggered under my breath.

"I think it was _all_ of those," I said.

"So you _did_ receive it genetically?" she enquired.

"My father had it when he was young, but I think the environment around me didn't exactly help with my behaviour as a kid."

"Were you always aware it affected your behaviour?"

"Of course I was. Well, when I was six and a half and my parents had to explain to it me, anyway. I always _knew_ I was special, though, but I took it in my stride, you know? Much better than letting it just _worry_ me to death."

It was silent for another few, dragging moments as Doctor Sinner continued writing. I kept my eyes locked on her, beginning to smirk at the fact she seemed to oblivious to how I really felt at that moment. Just like me with my drawing, she was completely immersed in writing her notes.

After she was done, she looked up at me again, pushing back one of her seven strands of hair, her red ribbon being tucked behind her ear.

"Now, Jane, I was discussing with Doctor Arkham before about your mental health–"

"Well, obviously, or I wouldn't be _here_, would I?" I chuckled.

"He informed me that Commissioner Gordon believed you are a sufferer of schizophrenia," she continued. "He stated when he interrogated you a few weeks ago regarding the murder of those three boys, you refused to accept you _had_ mental problem, which is common for someone who _does_ in fact suffer from one or several disorders."

"He's a cop, _he _doesn't need to know. It's none of _his _business. You, in fact, are a doctor, you know better than him."

"While you were put to sleep, we performed a test on you, x-raying your brain to see if it gave us any clues to what you may suffer from. Now, from that test, and discussing your traits and behaviours with Doctor Arkham _and _as of right now, I strongly believe you have paranoid schizophrenia, and also a case of bipolar disorder. From your unenthusiastic nature of discussing your history, it could also be a case you suffer from a manic state of depression–"

"A manic state of depression," I repeated.

"This is mainly due to what I believe is bipolar, which causes relentless amounts of depressive stages in one's life. Have you ever suffered from depression?" she asked me.

"Well…I am still suffering from it right _now_," I said, coldly.

"When did you start suffering from this substantially?" she questioned.

"I guess…about two years ago," I answered.

"Oh my goodness, how _awful_, for a girl of your age to be going through that."

My eyebrows lifted, at the surprise of her sudden understanding nature. I smiled at her.

"It is, if you know what I've been through," I sighed, coughing loudly, and burning my throat as I did.

"Everyone under this roof, Jane, has been through a lot of terrible things," Doctor Sinner added.

My smirk grew wider.

"Including yourself?" I joked.

"Everyone's been through tough times, Jane," she agreed, nodding.

"So, that means, _you've_ been through depressing situations yourself. Along with all the other psychiatrists. Hmm?"

"It takes a stressful amount of work to be able to get this job," Doctor Sinner said. "It also takes a lot of great patience to try and work and understand patients who are total opposite human beings from ourselves."

"That's not true," I grinned, now beginning to become intrigued with this woman. "For all I know, we could have a lot in common. It doesn't matter if you're a doctor and I'm a scumbag, we could _still _have a lot in common."

"Maybe we could. Now…"

I squealed as I cooked up an interesting thought.

"Did you know Doctor Harleen Quinzel?" I asked, my wide-eyes and a patronisingly shrill voice.

"I did know her, yes," Doctor Sinner admitted, shaking her head.

"She's Harley Quinn now," I giggled. "The Joker's lover."

"I'm aware of that, yes."

"So _she _went through horror too!" I chimed.

"Indeed, although I don't know the full story, but it is awful seeing her as a patient now."

"See? People like you _can _go mad!"

"It's a rarity."

"Oh, come on, Doctor Sinner, you _must _understand where a girl like me is coming from."

"I do, but we're getting off-track. Can you confirm to me you have this mental disorder?"

"What?"

"Schizophrenia."

I paused for a few painful seconds, recovering from the stabbing pain that word brought to my stomach. I could almost feel the vomit starting to waft up my thoat.

"You make it sound like it's so…_normal_," I breathed. "Like it's something _everybody _has, and you know something, Doctor Sinner? When I was young, I thought _everyone _in the world sees and hears crazy things. I didn't know it was all in _my_ mind and _just _my mind. Not until I was properly told what I had when I was around ten years old."

"So you've had it since you were young?" Doctor Sinner asked.

"I was diagnosed with the disgusting thing at seven, starting feeling it properly when I was eight, I had my first proper meltdown because of it at ten, and when _that_ happened, I was explained what I _actually_ have, a few days later. My father told me only _special_ people have it, like him and I. I got that from him, too."

"You genetically inherited schizophrenia from him as well?"

"Yes," I groaned in annoyance.

"Do you know anything else you genetically inherited?"

"As far as I know…_no_."

"Okay." She began creating her notes again, but still addressed me, with her face focused on her precious paperwork. "Now, Jane, I want you to be as honest and as informative about your mental health as possible to me."

"What…so you just want me to enthusiastically report to you what makes my life a misery?"

"I know it's hard for you."

"It's _very _hard."

"But, please…try and–"

"I know, I know, keep it professional." I exhaled a deep breath. I snapped a disturbing glare at Doctor Sinner. "Look, according to society, I'm a _crazy_ person. Now, it's not _my _fault I have these things, and to be honest with you, Doctor Sinner, I don't _wish _to have them. Yes, I have schizophrenia. Yes, I have bipolar disorder – which I was diagnosed with at sixteen by the way – but they're only the…the…the _thing_, which…uh, which _pushes _me to be the way I am. They make me angry. _Very_…angry. You could say they _back up_ whatever personality disorders I have, but I know it don't make my insanity _justifiable_. I don't _want _what I do to be justified by what I have in my mind. I _know _there's something wrong with me, but I don't care. I've had to accept that I'm not…not _ordinary _from a young age. That I am _extra-ordinary_! I say it every day, the world _sees_ me this way, and I can't get rid of these things I have, so I just have to _use_ them. I can't get out of my depressive state. I've tried to, but it just seems pointless. It's _part_ of me. It motivates me. I don't even _know_ the exact _term_ for whatever personality dissertation I have, because I _know _you're gonna sit there and tell me I have something like that, I _know _you are. In my humble opinion, I just _don't_ think the people in Gotham should question my…insanity…because even _I'm _confused about it…I'd much rather they question _me_...as a person, hmm? You know what I mean, Doctor Sinner?"

"I understand what you mean," she said, kindly. "That's what I'm here for."

"Yeah, you say that, but I don't trust _anyone_. You can't. Not in today's world." Doctor Sinner continued writing untidy notes, while I fixated my curious eyes on her, cocking my head to one side as I did. There was something weird about her. I just knew it. "Just tell me if I _do _have anything like that, I won't care, it's just a term, doesn't mean it's _right_," I scoffed.

"I believe you have conduct disorder, which sort of like a predecessor, in adolescence, of anti-social personality disorder, which cannot be diagnosed until a patient is eighteen, so–" the doctor began.

"_There _we go, I knew there'd be something," I growled. "I don't _care_. _That _don't justify what I do either."

"But I can't confirm it yet until I know more about you."

"Hmm."

"Okay, Jane, this next discussion may seem a little…personal," she then said, anxiously, tucking a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. She was yet again taking no notice of my statements. "But I want you to try and tell me."

"What's this _personal_ question, Doctor Sinner?" I asked. "Is it the _last _one? Because I could really do with a glass of water right now. My throat is _burning_ as much as my head right now. I also need a shower, do you provide showers? And where am I gonna sleep and watch TV, anyway?"

"Calm down, Jane, I will inform you everything after the session," Doctor Sinner said.

"How much longer _is _this session?" I groaned. "I'm not one for concentrating and _talking _about serious things for a while."

"I only have one more thing to ask you before it's dinner hour."

"Come on, then. I may get to see The Joker then."

The psychiatrist then paused for what seemed like a lifetime, slowly moving her head to one side, which was almost her position to think hard.

It took her a while for her to jumble words together after her thought process. I noticed the tiniest smirk was on her lips, a smile of arrogance.

I felt my skin crawl, burying into my shoulder's scar, and my throbbing heart pulse now pumped out my scar. My fists started a clench.

She just didn't understand me. She just sit with me for a thousand sessions and try to understand me, but she would never. She would have to feel the madness herself in order to understand.

"What I want to understand, Jane," Doctor Sinner then said, in a patient voice, "is the _method_ to your insanity, how it has developed so rapidly in you at such a young age, but we still leave that for tomorrow. Before I let you go, I want to know two things."

"Go on," I grinned.

"Your motive. What is the motive behind the actions you've done over the past few weeks?"

"Well, what do _you _think it is?" Doctor Sinner remained quiet, leaving just an expectant look on her face, gripping her pen, ready to actively take down everything I said. "I expect that you're wanting me to say…my motive is to get money, or gain power, or something like that. _No_. That doesn't matter to me. What motivates me, is revenge, Doctor Sinner. Just revenge on the people who…who…who I don't _like_. Who I hate. Right?"

"And that is the innocent citizens of Gotham?"

"Nobody is innocent. Even _you're _not. I can tell by that look in your eye something's dodgy about you, but anyway, _that's _my motive. Revenge."

"Not chaos?"

"And chaos, too."

"Would you consider yourself as an anarchist?"

"The Joker said I was the youngest anarchist that ever lived. He said I was a princess of anarchy. So, yeah, maybe I _am_ one of those."

"Do you have _any_ guilt about what you've done? No remorse for the people you've killed?"

"Why would I? They meant _nothing_ to me, so why should I care if they lived or died? All they were, were _useless_ people who didn't give a _care _about me so why _should _I care about _them_?"

"So you're happy with what you've done?"

"Of course I am. I _was _planning to do a lot more, until you threw me in _here_."

"And what was that?"

"None of your business. All you need to know is, that it was going to be _epic_."

I laughed, heartily, feeling a small adrenaline rush through me when I heard it echo throughout the room. Doctor Sinner flinched wildly, but nevertheless, kept her calm nature.

"Was this your motive _before_ you started working with The Joker?" Doctor Sinner then questioned.

"Sort of," I sighed, recovering from my hysterical laughter. "He influenced me a lot. I saw him on TV and thought he was absolutely right. He taught me a great deal of things, so really, without him, I wouldn't have had the courage to do the things I did."

"And you didn't think you were putting your life in danger by working with a man like that?"

"Not really. I didn't care."

"Do you care about anything?"

"Don't _sit _there and think I care about _nothing_ because I _do_," I snarled. "One thing and one thing only. My father. _That's_ it."

"I see."

"By the way, my allies, Ivy and Enigma, what happened to them?"

"Poison Ivy was also put into this programme, Enigma is no longer here, for reasons which I don't know."

"That's stupid. She's clearly…she's _clearly_ a bit tapped in the head."

"I don't think so, Jane."

"Well, _I _think so."

"Gordon believed you'd forced her into a life of criminality."

"Maybe I did a little, and I _told _him this, when it comes down to it, _she _made the decision to do it. She didn't _have _to."

My eyebrows waggled, haughtily. My fingers were still grinding on the table before me. Doctor Sinner still continued to scribble in her eagerness, but yet, she still maintained eye contact with me. That look of uncomfortableness was shining through more and more now.

"I _was _going to ask you…how it _feels_ to have your mental conditions–" she began.

"But you decided not to ask me, because as a psychiatrist, you should already _know _what it does to someone," I stated, cheekily.

"I was interested to know how it felt like from _your _perspective."

"You're pushing your luck, if you're trying to get me to talk in _detail_ about what happens to me when I experience it during the adrenaline rush. If I talk about it, it may happen, and you _don't _want that, do you, Doctor Sinner?"

"That's why I was going to ask you something else which may give me a similar answer."

"Well, just _don't _make me mad. I'm not a normal person."

"I didn't say you were. Now, Jane, what I'd like to know is…are you…are you angry at the world?"

"That's a pretty dumb question. Of _course _I am. Haven't I made it obvious enough? Didn't _Joker _make it obvious enough? He told me life was one big _joke_, and it _is_. I like to watch the eyes fade, because then I _know _that person is no longer experiencing this _joke _of a world, and that makes me _happy_, knowing they're dead, and in a better place, than having to wait to experience the next horrible thing in their lives that could happen _just _around the corner! And that's the truth."

"You like killing people?"

"Yes, I _do_."

"You feel like it's an achievement to yourself?"

"Yes, because I'm actually _helping them out_, and that's _my _view, _not _my mind's view."

"I see."

"I can't believe the world's so _blind _to what I'm actually trying to put across."

"A lot of patients say they are misunderstood people."

"Oh, I agree with that."

"But everyone under this roof is here for a _reason_, Jane."

"I agree with _that_, too."

"And you understand why _you're _here."

"Because according to the majority of this nation, I'm an evil person," I scoffed. "I'm so _caught up_ in my own _twisted_ ideologies, that it stops me from being sane…_apparently_. They all think people like me belong here, confined and trapped in a place with little to no freedom."

"You are _actually _here, because we decided to give you help."

"No amount of help will ever change me. It may make me a _tad _emotional, but once I'm released, I'll still be the same girl."

"Not if I do my job correctly."

"You know something, Doctor Sinner? I _like _you. I didn't think I would, but I do. You're determined. That's so good to see, and you're also at least _trying _to understand where I'm coming from. I think you'll be _fun _to work with."

"Jane, before I finish today, you have to be aware of what you have, and also understand your actions this week–"

"Actions speak louder than _words_!" I sang.

"But surely you understand it was unacceptable."

"Well…nobody's perfect, are they? Now, _please_, Doctor Sinner, can I go? Didn't you say it was dinner hour soon?"

"I do think this'll be enough for today, and I may think you may grow to like Arkham, Jane Price."

"Well, we'll see, won't we? However long I'm here for."

"And now I know what to discuss during tomorrow's session. It will be difficult for you, but I hope you can understand why–"

"So what does that involve?"

"Like I said, I wish to understand the progress of your mental health."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean…for the benefit of my…_our_…mental health?"

"Please, Jane, I am very good at my job. I must ask you to trust me."

"I don't trust anyone, but I suppose I could, uh…got with it. As long as you don't make me mad."

"You know I won't try to, dear. Thank you for your time this evening. I think you've coped brilliantly well with it being so sudden."

"I _haven't_."

"And I commend you for that." She completed compiling her notes together, and rose carefully from her chair, hugging her clipboard close to her. "Now, if you wait here, Jane," she addressed me, attempting to sound cheerful, "I'll get someone to escort you to the cafeteria, as dinner hour begins in…" She glanced at her diamonded watch. "Ten minutes. That turned out well."

"You planned to do this before I ate," I snapped. "_Not_ thinking I should eat first."

"Once I find someone to escort you, they will then show you where your cell is, and in there, you are provided with a bed and a television."

"What about a shower?"

"We'll arrange everything, don't worry, Jane. Now, wait here."

She swiftly exited the room, the door closing with a heavy bang.

That bang was the sound of my imprisonment.

My mind triggered with its paranoia again.

_You'll never get out of here. You're too weak to escape. Even your daddy won't help you, because he thinks you're __**weak**__. _

I felt so helpless, that I couldn't even find it in me to retaliate my voices. After all, they were the reason I was there. They defined my insanity.

But I'm not insane. They just think I am. _I _know I'm not. Not really.

All I could do now was wait for my reunion. It wasn't the reunion I'd been hoping for, but it was something.

Sure enough, a six-foot bodyguard entered the room, along with a long-legged man, with jolted glasses. He plodded in, alongside the bodyguard.

"Hello, Miss Price," he said.

"And who's this?" I asked, scornfully.

"I'm Doctor Jeremiah Arkham, Head of this Asylum," he answered, importantly. "I'm just here to escort you to your cell, show you around, and then head to the cafeteria for dinner hour."

"And what's with ape-face?" I laughed.

"For my own protection," he replied.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?!" I demanded.

"Just come along, Miss Price," Arkham said, calmly. "We must show you, in a controlled way."

"Alright, I'm _coming_," I sneered, through gritted teeth. I toppled the chair backwards as I bulleted from my chair and sauntered heftily towards them both. They lead me outside into the Rehabilitation area corridor. With Doctor Arkham in front of me, he led me down the corridor at a quick pace. I was still lacking freedom from the restraint of my handcuffs. The bodyguard behind me tried to grab my shoulder, and at his strong touch, I grunted in shock and flinched away, nearly tripping over in fury. "Don't _touch _me!" I barked, shooting into his face.

"Turn around!" he snapped, pushing me forward.

"Well don't _touch _me then!" I shouted, furiously.

"Miss Price, please try and keep calm," Arkham ordered, not turning around.

"Well tell the big gorilla behind me _not _to touch me!" I growled.

They did not answer, instead continuing to guide me through an endless amount of corridors, which to me, zoomed past like a blur.

I couldn't believe my eyes, when we eventually made it to a large cell, which appeared to have plenty of room. A bed was laying there ready, although I winced at how hard the surface looked, and peering over it, on the wall above, was a small television. There was also a small desk, an adorable little lampshade, and a collection of pens scattered out, just ready to be used.

"Here is your cell, Price," Arkham informed me. "This is where you'll stay when you're not in session with Doctor Sinner, at meal times, or during provided break times. You patients on the psychiatric rehabilitation all stay in this corridor together–"

"So is Joker here?!" I squealed.

"Not at the moment, he has been escorted to the cafeteria for the evening meal," Arkham explained. "But yes, his cell is in this corridor." I shrieked, loudly, starting to dance on my toes, loudly, only to once again be halted by the bodyguard jerking my shoulder. "Now you know where you are," Doctor Arkham continued, "you will be escorted either by a member of staff or a bodyguard everywhere you go, in case you are planning to escape. You understand?"

"Sure," I giggled.

"Good. Right, Bolton, take her to the cafeteria, dinner hour starts in five."

Before I could make another word in edgeways, the thug behind me commanded me to follow him. Reluctantly, I slumped after him, although I was still bewildered with the condition of what seemed more like a hotel room than a cell.

A bell chimed to signify it was dinner hour, just as the big man led me through a double door, where I was greeted by a long line of scowling faces, up against a wall, leading to yet another swinging door.

"Join the line," he instructed, gruffly, literally pushing me forward.

I bolted around to retort, but I was only met with another guard, gripping my arm, forcing me to face the way I'd come in.

"Asshole!" I yelled over my shoulder.

"Be quiet, girl," the man in front of me ordered. I looked down to see he was unlocking my handcuffs. "Get in the line, you hear?"

He unbuckled the handcuffs away and nodded at the line, with a snakelike glare. I growled under my breath, bearing my teeth at him, and trudged over to join the back of the long line.

I tried to spot The Joker as I travelled to the back, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Before I knew it, the cellmates were allowed into the cafeteria with an ear-splitting chiming of a bell, and they flooded in like a herd of wild animals. Once I made it inside myself (the last prisoner), I saw them all bustling noisily their way through the enormous cafeteria, some were, by now, even sitting down and eating already. The remaining inmates in front of me, were clumsily pushing their way through the line that formed across the right side of the room, over a dimly-lighted buffet, headed by a dozen chefs, dishing out the food to the hungry criminals. They were all greedily awaiting their meals, some so desperate, they were shoving their way through to gulp down their meals, grabbing their trays and sprinting to find an empty space.

Of course, I was the last to collect my food, the echoes of the talkative mental prisoners making my eyes twitch.

"You new here, darling?" the dinner lady asked me, splatting mashed potato onto a plate for me.

"New to _this _place, indeed," I sighed.

"Ah, I feel sorry for you in amongst all these men," she laughed.

"Not _all _of 'em are men," I said. "Besides, we're all here for a _reason_. We're all crazy, so we can get on, I suppose."

She didn't have an answer to that, and continued to create my mediocre looking meal, placing a glass of water with it and a small side bowl of cake and custard, or as I saw it, a bowl of calories. I was almost hauled down to my knees when she placed my plates on my tray.

"Enjoy, love," she beamed.

"Thanks," I said, dripping with sarcasm. Looking down at what I had been given made me wince, of how fatty and sloppy the roast dinner was. "You have…_no idea _how hungry I am," I chuckled to the woman who served me. "Food keeps me going, you know, but I haven't been able to _touch _food recently. Maybe _that's_ why I'm becoming weak. Maybe _that's _the reason I'm frail."

She just smiled and nodded, which is probably what she did to all the suffering patients she served.

As soon as I turned around, carrying my red tray steadily, my eyes were drawn to a hand, waving crazily at the far end of the room.

"_Pricey_!" a feminine shriek shattered the walls.

I squinted my eyes to see it was none other than Harley Quinn beckoning me over with her shrill excitement. Poison Ivy was sat next to her.

It took me a while to realise who they were, as they were now stripped of their own theatrical costumes and were forced to wear those smelly orange prisoners' clothes, though she still had her swinging blonde pigtails brushing against her shoulders as she waved to me frantically.

Some of the other inmates laughed hysterically at Harley's antics, others pinned she and I on the spot with an impatient look of death, exchanging between us, but I simply just scowled back at them, poking my sharp tongue out childishly.

I walked as quickly as possible to join Harley and Ivy. I took no notice of the remarks the mad prisoners murmured under their reeking breaths as I made my journey past them, because like I said to Doctor Sinner, I don't care about anything.

I carefully sat opposite the two women, and felt my stomach rumble like an active volcano upon seeing the mountain of food in front of me, so dived into my meal, greedily, like a starving child in Africa.

"Uh, Jane?" Ivy said, blatantly annoyed.

I glanced up, exhaling an aggravated sigh.

"Hi," I muttered.

"Hi, to ya _too_, PJ!" Harley squealed. "How ya been?"

"Terrible. How have you been?" I replied, concentrating on my meal.

"Nice to come back to my old home," Harley sighed. "But ever since they split me and Mister J up, I've been _so _angry."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, interested, snapping my head back up at Harley.

"Well, ya see, since he was thrown in here about three days ago, or maybe four, I can't remember," Harley explained, her cheeks flashing scarlet, "me and him were caught cookin' up a way to get outta here, _on camera_, during a break outside. Since then we're _barred_ from being near each other."

"So is _that _why he's not here?" I asked, disappointingly.

"The guards in here have to inform Doctor Arkham that when I finish, I have to be pushed outta here quickly so _he _can then come in later," Harley tutted, tears almost invading her eyes. "It's _so _unfair."

"Maybe you shouldn't have fucked him in your cell, then, Harley," Ivy snickered.

"I did _not_!" she laughed.

"Look, whatever," I scoffed. "I want to see him, so do me a favour and eat. This has been the _weirdest _day of my life and it's only getting more frustrating."

"Have they put you on that psychiatric rehabilitation programme?" Harley asked, gulping down a brittle carrot.

"Yes," I grunted.

"Who's ya so-called therapist?" she wanted to know.

"Doctor Sinner," I replied.

"Ooh, you have _Alyce_!" Harley sniggered. "Oh my god, that's _so _crazy!"

"Why?" I asked.

"There's something _weird_ about her, I thought that when _I _worked here a _lo-ong _time ago. I came in one day and she was talking like she was _possessed_. Oh, PJ, once I was done interrogating about her weird behaviour, she hushed her mouth like she was keeping a _dirty _secret from me!"

"I thought she was weird," I said, now a small grin growing onto my lips. "But she seems like fun. Very serious, though."

"She _is_!" Harley hissed, leaning in closer. "She _so _wants to be Head Psychiatrist, she'll do _anything _to do it! She's _so _corrupt! Mark my words!"

"You serious?" I laughed.

"Yeah! Even Mister J said so!"

"How does _he_ know?"

"Why doncha ask 'im when he arrives, hmm?"

"I will, so eat up!" I snapped.

"Okay!" she chimed, throwing her food into her mouth and munching away, with a maddened look on her face.

I sighed and shook my head, poking my food with my fork. My head was hanging down heavily, glaring at the vile mess before me.

"Who do _you_ have then, Ivy?" I asked her, not looking up.

"Doctor Cavendish," she said. "He seems quite nice. He's _very _handsome."

"_My _psychiatrist reckons I have CD," I grumbled.

"You have what?" Ivy asked, curiously. "A CD?"

"_No_, CD…the _disorder_," I growled.

"Conduct disorder," Harley piped up. "It's like anti-social personality disorder in adolescence, basically. It's a load of _funny _nonsense. Doctor Arkham says Mister J has ASPD. So _what_, I say."

"Yeah, you got _that _right," I chuckled. "She wants me to talk about my problems like it's _easy _for me. She don't get it. If only I could, quite literally, _drill _inside her brain what it _is _to be schizophrenic. A raging mad one."

"Tell me about it," Ivy said. "I reckon all these doctors are corrupt in some form of another. All Doctor Cavendish seemed to ask me about was my money when I was a doctor, too."

"Unbelievable," I groaned.

"I'm just glad Enigma managed to get out of here," Ivy sighed.

"What happened to her?" I demanded.

My interest made a flash trigger in me, and I sat up, leaning in closely to Ivy. I continued eating the flavourless food as slowly as I could, purposely to waste time.

"Turns out her stepdad _was _a criminal after all," Ivy said, with a smile that almost looked pleased on her chops. "He _did _use his riddles in his quizzes to find out the motives and actions of Frank and Johnny Falino, who he _knew _was coming into his nightly quizzes. He wanted to use crime to get more money, but kept it a dirty secret. He insisted the money was for his family, and he tried to find out how he could use crime to get money by using the answers that Frank and Johnny gave to his riddles, hoping they wouldn't notice he was using them. Obviously those scumbags were smarter than we thought, because they knew straight away. Yeah, Edward cried and acted all pitiful when we were at Blackgate and tried to _justify_ himself but Enigma had none of it. Oh my god, she went absolutely _insane _at him. Finding out he lied the whole time, acting all sweet and innocent, like he _didn't _do it, and making her believe defending him was the _right _thing, well she went _berserk_. He said he was doing it _all _for Enigma and her family, in the end I had to get her out of there before she got _really _mad. God, it was _terrible _but if _you_ were there, Jane, I reckon you would have laughed at the whole thing."

"What's an enigma?" Harley squeaked.

"No, Enigma is a _person_," I corrected. "She was an ally of Ivy and I, but _now_, I reckon she's gone even _more _off the rails. So where is she?"

"I don't know if she said who she _really _was or anything to the cops in the end," Ivy sighed, looking disappointed, "but as far as I know she's been put into Blackgate."

"Why would she tell them who she is?" I scolded. "Her name is _Enigma_. That means she's a _mystery_. Her identity is _meant _to be a riddle! God. Talk about stupidity. I had a funny feeling that it may come back Johnny and Frank were right all along, but I'm glad I tortured them to the bone anyway. Little cowards."

"Tell me about it," Ivy chuckled.

"Do you like it here?" Harley then asked.

"No," I mumbled.

"Why not?!" Harley gasped. "It's comfy, free food, and you're with people who _exactly _like you, and I mean _everyone_."

"Even the doctors?" I chuckled.

"They are _insane_," she laughed, munching on her vegetables.

"Well, The Joker _did _say all it takes is a bad day and the next thing you know you're running around crazy," I laughed. "Look what happened to _you_, Doctor Quinzel."

"Yeah, yeah, let's bring up _Harleen_," Harley whined.

"Hurry up!" I commanded, motioning her to eat up with my fork. "Eat up, Harley!"

"Shh!" Ivy hissed. "If they catch you and The Joker talking about anything suspicious they'll keep you apart and _then _you won't be satisfied."

"Not if they find out the _truth_," I grinned.

"The truth?" Ivy repeated.

"Ah-ha!" I chirruped.

"What do you mean, Pricey?" Harley questioned, with her mouth full.

"Wait and see," I giggled. "You _know _your Mister J _always _has some trick up his sleeve. No doubt he's going to tell me everything on his mind."

That's exactly what I was hoping for.

The moment Harley had gulped down every single crumb on her plate, she winked at me, with a cunning grin, and with her squealing laughter attracting a great amount of men as she flounced away to take her plate away, I saw a guard by the entrance murmuring something into his walkie-talkie. Soon enough, on strict orders, Harley was handcuffed and she quite literally skipped out of the entrance, with two guards escorting her out. Almost like it was on cue, Ivy rose to her feet, heading towards the food disposal bin.

"See you, Jane," she said, casually.

"Where are _you _going?" I gasped.

"You think I'm sticking around to wait for _that _clown?" she scoffed. "No way. I'm going back to my cell for peace and quiet. To write _progress _notes." She chuckled at my puzzled expression. "I'm joking." She winked. "Besides, won't you wanna speak to him one-on-one?"

I nodded. Ivy left me be, and with another guard, she was given permission to leave, too.

So now it was all a waiting game.

I could barely touch my food. My fork was slipping in my sweat-ridden palms. I was brushing the tip of my fork on the mashed potato's skin, poking my vegetables, but none of it could travel to my wet mouth. All I could manage to do was take a few gulps of my water.

The busy noise surrounding me just made me even more paranoid.

Would he recognise me dressed like this? Would he _want _to sit with me? Would he be _happy _to see me? Would he be furious at me for showing weakness that early morning?

What was he going to say? What was he going to _do_?

I was soon going to find out.

At first, I didn't notice The Joker had slipped inside the area, as he came in noiselessly. It was only when I lifted my head to check, after it had been staring at my feet, that I noticed the two bodyguard who had led Harley out, were pushing him into the room.

I could almost feel tears starting to assault my eyes when I saw the state he was in.

He was dressed exactly how I was dressed, with a blurred patient number strapped onto his bodysuit. His hair, still dirty green, was covering his face, which to my pleasant surprise was still caked in his clown makeup, although it was crumbling away, smudged and untidy. I saw them remove his handcuffs and allow him to go and select his meal. As always, his shoulders were hunched as he sauntered to his location, with one hand, now gloveless, buried inside his pocket, and the other weakly lifting a tray from the large pile.

I watched him collect his meal in seconds flat, and turn his heavy body around to observe his dark pools around the area, to find his desired seat.

I decided to stay quiet, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of everyone by calling his name.

All the other prisoners took no notice of his entrance, all of which, except me, of course.

I poked my body up as straight as I could, as straight as a pencil in a tight pencil case, hoping to stick out in the crowd of cellmates. I gave him the most joyous beaming face I could, although inside, my heart was rattling against my ribcage, with the throbbing pulse beating all the way into my deafening head.

The Joker snapped his head to his right, where one of his bushy eyebrows raised. He nodded his head a little, knowingly.

My heart stopped. His eyes were now locked onto me.

I heard him chuckle that all too familiar chuckle of adrenaline.

He sauntered over to join me, like a lion stalking a helpless zebra, but I still remained silent. The Joker slumped on the bench opposite me, his tray landing on the table with an unsettling crash as he did. His eyes rocketed to mine.

The stare he gave me was one I knew too well. It was that look of I was in trouble, but with someone like The Joker, you can just _never_ know what he's going to come out with.

Even _I _don't fully understand him still, and I'm his _daughter_.

"Jane," he finally said, in his gruff voice, which picked at my ears, almost making me flinch. "You made i_t_."

"Yes…" I stammered. I cleared my throat. "Yes, I'm here."

"I _am_, uh…I'm quite thrilled," he went on. "I didn't think you'd make it here."

My heart sprinted out of control.

"So…so you're _happy_ to see me?" I asked, hopefully.

"I caught it on GCN this very morning," he explained, showing me his predatory eyes, licking his lips and lowering his gruff 'clown' voice. "Princess Jane, and a certain…_Poison_ Ivy and someone called _Enigma_, _caught_…outside Blackgate Prison, caught breaking in and the _cause _of hundreds of deaths."

"Yep."

"I have to ask you, little one," he continued, not looking at me, directly, "what have you been up to the last few days? Hmm? Just to confirm it all to my ears."

He picked up an apple in his palm and crunched into it, hungrily. He leaned in towards me, eagerly awaiting my explanation, leaning on an odd angle, on his left elbow, and his right hand.

"Creating what you stand for," I replied. "Chaos."

"You know I'm _all _about chaos," he snickered.

"Of course I know that. I also gained my revenge on a certain _coward _wanting me dead for a little cash."

"How many people did you teach a lesson?"

"Too many to count."

"Hmm."

"You said I needed to do it alone. Didn't you?"

"I did indeed, and uh…I am…"

"Proud?"

He kept bearing his eyes into my heartless soul. How he was feeling was of course unidentifiable, which just kept my heart pounding.

The Joker took a spurt from his drink, the water running down his red lips. He slowly placed it back on the table, sighing deeply.

"Look at me," he ordered, hoarsely. "What you've _done_, my girl, I must tell you, when I discovered the, uh…the _success _you performed…you wanna know what I did?"

"What?" I asked, my eyes stretching wider.

"I found the whole thing so…_hysterical_."

I smirked. "Oh really?"

"Indeed."

My smile faded. "But I _know_ what you're gonna say," I mumbled.

"What _am _I gonna say, darlin'?" he inquired, sharply.

"You're gonna ask, why didn't I fight more when Gordon and his puppets caught us up and brought us here, right?" I sighed.

"Well, uh…it _was_ reported they completely surrounded you ladies." He waggled his eyebrows. "Correct?"

"Correct," I agreed, feeling the embarrassment churn my stomach.

"And they had to restrain you with _mighty _force of several cops?" Joker recalled. "Am I, uh…am I _right_, Princess Jane?"

"Yes, but…" I grunted, disdainfully. "_Look_ at me, Joker. I'm _not_ Princess Jane anymore. Look what they've _done_ to me. They've stripped my _bare _of my identity."

"Don't talk like that. You still have the mind of her."

"I guess, but–"

"Now, uh…let's not _argue_ over the table, shall we? Huh? I thought princesses had, ah…_good _manners."

"I'm not, I…I'm just a little confused, J," I stuttered.

"Oh?"

"You're talking to me, as if…you were there _yourself_. Like you know _every_ detail about what happened. How do you know…?"

"I'll tell ya." He took another large gulp of his murky coloured drink. "Ya know that fool with the glasses?" he then asked.

"Doctor Arkham?" I piped.

"Jerry…" he confirmed, nodding, vigorously. "He, uh, he made a _big _mistake."

"What do you mean?" I wanted to know.

"Putting me on the _very end _cell…right next door to his office-_uh_," The Joker explained, gesturing every single syllable with his trembling fingers. "I have _keen_ ears, sweetheart. I can hear _every _word." He chuckled, nastily. "Everything he and the commissioner discussed about you? I heard it. I got terribly curious. I can hear 'im _every _time he's in there…discussing…_me_. My life. My ways. Of course, discussing my _ways_ is important, but discussing…_me_…is no_t_. He has _no _idea I can hear 'im. I _did _begin to like Jerry…until he called me and my vision _crazy_, because once _again_, darlin', I had to explain myself during these, uh…this…uh…"

"Therapy," I finished.

"Uh huh. He wanted to know the _truth _about everything," he continued. "I didn't like that…so, uh…I'm _not _taking this place very _kindly _anymore, an' you _know _what that means, huh?" We both nodded, simultaneously. He then managed to make a tiny smirk, stretching his scars further. "I must say…I had kinda _missed _your company–"

"_Did_ you?" I gasped, before smacking my hand over my mouth, as my remark was too loud.

"I did," The Joker said. "I only enjoy the company of those that see _my _vision, an' I gave you your freedom, an' you grasped it, didn't you?" I nodded, strongly. "Yes…_every _little inch between ya feminine fingers…an' you _crushed _'em in your hand," he continued, his voice flooded with pleasure. "Proves that this City…it's so…_hopeless _it can't even battle a little girl."

"A little girl who's got a _knife_ in her hand," I giggled, lifting my culinary knife aloft, and grinning arrogantly.

"You would _think _that they would _know_ they have the _balls _to face a teenager," The Joker sneered. "But what have you proved, little one? Hmm?"

"That age is just a number?" I guessed.

"True, but, uh…most importantly, that _you_ can use anarchy to take your anger out on the world…but what's your secret weapon in actual fact? It's the same as my own."

He gave me an expectant look. I racked my mind hard, trying to barge my thought process through the voices.

"My…mind?" I predicted. He lifted his eyebrows, to gesture me to carry on. "My intelligence? My madness?" The Joker winked at me, then look a large bite off his chicken dinner, stringed with fat, and gnawed ferociously upon it, like a starving hyena. "So…so you're _not_ angry at me?" I squeaked.

"You're starting to sound like Harley," he chuckled. "I'm more…_disappointed_…"

"You think I didn't try?" I said, my voice high-pitched suddenly, as felt my heart thumping hard. "I...I mean you can't punish me _here_. You _know _I–"

"Calm yourself, my dear," he laughed. "You'll, uh…you'll get thrown out if you start to do that. You understand why I'm a little disappointed, I hope. My expectations of you fighting, are _high_, but I'm not dim-witted. I _knew_ you'd end up making you're way _here _when you'd go too far…and if you ask me, your highness, blowing up a crime boss's house, _isn't _something a young girl like yourself would normally run away and get away with, now is it? You know what I think? There oughta be more teenagers like you." We shared a callous cackle, not caring if the others stared at us. "You really think I'm clueless? I _know _your powerful little mind. I _knew_ you'd get caught."

"But you didn't _want _me to get caught," I whispered, completely puzzled. "That means you have no faith in me."

"At _first_, doll face, at _first_." He guzzled the rest of the drink down his throat and wiped his mouth, leaving his red lip paint smeared into an ugly pattern. "I would _want_ you to continue creating the thing I so _crave _for…" A look of pleasure plastered his face. "But then I realised…something _strange_ is going on in this asylum. Something…_fun_. Something that could lead to the City seeing the bright side of a little anarchy. That's when I _knew_…" He lowered his voice into an almost inaudible whisper. "This was something I _had _to get my little girl involved in. I knew I would see you again, even if your manipulative little self took _months_ to be sent here. I _wanted _you here, and for good reasons, too. And now you are."

"So…so you basically _planned _for me to come here?" I hissed.

"Yeah," The Joker replied, nodding, with his mouth full of potato, this time. "You're aware of the established order in Gotham City, huh?"

"It's been _destroyed_," I sniggered. "There _is _none anymore. Not since you broke Harvey Dent's mind."

"Exactly," The Joker said. "All you have to do, is showcase a little anarchy magic trick. The people, who are supposedly the _sane_ civilians in Gotham, what did I show 'em, Jane?"

"That they can be exactly as we are," I said, immediately.

"Precisely, sweetheart," Joker continued, in a cold, scheming voice. "Now would you agree…" His voice became a harsh whisper yet again, so I could only just about hear it over the riotous noise in the cafeteria. "Would you agree that some of these people, that can be fooled with the correct sense of persuasion by a guy like me, are psychiatrists?" he asked.

"Of course," I whispered. "Look what happened to Harley."

Joke sat up a little, smirking, suddenly clattering his knife and fork onto the table, and digging into one of his pockets. To my pleasant but shocked surprise, he pulled out a pack of standard playing cards, slipping them out of its packet easily. He began shuffling them in his hands, like a professional.

"What?!" I spluttered. "What's this?"

"What do they _look _like, pumpkin?" he giggled. "Jerry said I'm allowed 'em, ya know…to _occupy _my mind…just like I'm permission for my, uh…ya know what I did? I had two cops holding my shoulders back, threatening to send me to a state where the _death sentence _was legal, when I was telling Jerry I _didn't _want my war paint removed. Therefore…he let me keep it."

"Maybe I should do that to Doctor Sinner so I can have _mine _back. It made me _so _angry."

"Hmm, I bet it did, little one."

"Did you know I have Doctor Alyce Sinner and I've been put onto this so-called therapeutic rehab thing?"

"I heard Jerry discussing it with her, that unfortunate early morning you were dragged into this place."

"You really hear _everything_?"

"Everything."

"Lucky you."

"Yes. I'm a very lucky man, but, ah…I'm also a man of my _word_. Now, my little co-agent of chaos, would you like to see a magic trick?"

"Yes please," I beamed.

I couldn't help but chuckle as he began to lay certain cards on the table, six to be exact, squeezing them between our trays. He placed down the Red Joker card, the Black Joker card, both of which were my hand-made ones, the Queen of Hearts and Clubs and the King of Hearts and Clubs, in a line across the table, all facing me.

"Now, every card signifies something here," The Joker explained. "This isn't so much a _trick_…more of a story. Now." He picked up the two Joker cards, in one hand, and displayed them by his face, so the picture was being displayed to me. "There's always two of these in a deck. The two little rascals. What do you think _this_ represents in today's world, hmm, beautiful?"

"Me and you?" I guessed.

"Very good," he praised. He replaced them with the two Queen cards in between his fingers. "Now, uh…only _one_ of us has uh…female psychiatrist."

"So that's Doctor Sinner?" I grinned.

"Mm-hmm. Red signifies her happiness, black signifies her _un_happiness…or rather, darkness."

I snickered at the cold-hearted joke. Joker peered over his shoulder, quickly, before making his next move. I looked around too, but no one appeared to be watching us, or whispering about our strangeness. Even the bodyguards dotted around weren't noticing what we were doing. I guess they couldn't have thrown us out about it, even if they were watching. All we were doing were playing with cards.

Well, that's what I thought at that moment.

I looked back to see Joker now had the two King cards between his fingers, raising his eyebrows for an immediate answer from me.

"Doctor Arkham," I said, instantly, clicking and pointing at the cards, triumphantly.

"I think you're getting the hang of this," Joker said, sounding somewhat pleased.

He then began sorting the cards into a certain order on the table, taking great care to make them as neat. The King and Queen of Clubs were put to one side, face down on the table.

The Joker seemed too calm to me at this moment, the calmest and most casual, the most social, I'd _ever _seen him. Maybe the therapy _was _rubbing off a little bit on him.

But then again, that's a ridiculous thought.

"Watch carefully," The Joker said, in a scarily calm voice.

The Black Joker, which I presumed was him, was facing opposite the King of Hearts, and next to that, was my Red Joker facing the Queen of Hearts. I watched closely, not daring to blink, in case I missed an important move. After a few moments to take in this picture, Joker took the two Heart cards and placed them directly in front of me, their faces now splattered on the table. I glanced at him, questionably. He raised a sly eyebrow.

"What do I do?" I asked, softly.

By now, my body was shaking with wonder and excitement. I had no idea what to think, but my brain was beginning to juggle what The Joker was cleverly doing here. He was unfolding a new plot to me, showing it through the cards' story, so he didn't have to unveil it out loud.

I think he noticed the realisation suddenly sketching onto my features, as I saw him grin wider, this time showing his yellow teeth.

"Just flick the cards on the table once," he instructed, in his clown voice, "but don't look at 'em."

I did exactly that, and then he gestured his hand open to me, an order to give them back. I did so, handing them over face down. Joker flipped them over on the table, in their original positions. I couldn't help but gasp in shock when I saw they had now magically transformed into the Clubs cards, King and Queen, respectively.

"How did–?!" I began, stunned.

"Ah, ah, a magician never reveals his secrets," he chuckled. "You know that. There's more, anyway. Those two other cards I put aside you believe were the Clubs?" I nodded. "Take a look at 'em now."

I eagerly tossed over the two cards aside, and nearly fell off my seat when I saw the two cards I held between my fingers. They were the two Hearts Cards, but now each had a poorly drawn-on devil's tail and horns spouting out from them. I couldn't help but giggle hysterically at the silly pictures, which had obviously been drawn by him.

I shot my head back up at my talented father, open mouthed.

"What?!" I guffawed.

"Now, do you understand what this is saying?" The Joker asked, sinisterly. I nodded, gently, believing I was grasping the story. "Don't tell me. Now, give me _all _of the cards." I did exactly as the magician said, and The Joker shuffled them effortlessly again. He splayed them in front of me after shuffling several times. "Pick a card, any card," he instructed. I lifted my hand to pick one, but was interrupted by his sharp cough. "The ones we hold at the end, determines the results of this story," he told me, his psychotic clown voice scraping my eardrums.

I chose the one the very far right, and hurriedly held it close to my chest. I quickly peered at it, to see it was the Queen of Clubs, representing Doctor Sinner's darkness. I put it back to my chest again.

"Now do I give it back to you?" I asked him.

He licked his lips, not answering. His eyes were drawn to me for a few, long moments.

"Now," he then ordered, outstretching his hand. I quickly planted the card back into his palm, and with it, he shuffled them all again, this time in different, unique ways. He did it without any signs of struggling or letting one slip from his hand. The whole time he continued shuffling, he didn't keep his eyes off mine. Finally, he spread them out, face down, in front of him, and picked up the one in the very middle. He glared at it, then smirked, then displayed it to me. "Was this your card, Jane?"

I beamed, brightly, when I saw that he was holding the Queen of Clubs.

"Yes!" I squealed.

"Hmm. Now, take all the cards, and splay 'em out for me," was his next instruction. "But not your card, and don't look at any of 'em." The Joker handed me the deck in a neat pile, all of them face down. I did exactly as he said, and outspreaded the deck for him. He didn't move. "Say the all-important instruction first," he said, with a small snigger.

"Pick a card, any card," I giggled.

Without any hesitation, The Joker immediately took the one on the far left and showcased his pick.

"King of Clubs," he said, smacking his lips. "Isn't _that _an odd coincidence we _both _got the Club cards, hmm? We both got the unhappy card?"

"That was…that's unbelievable," I laughed. "How did you know which one to pick?"

"For me to know, and for you to be fascinated with. But the story's not over."

"It's not?"

"Have a look in your right pocket."

"What?"

"You heard me."

I eagerly then dug into my prisoners' all-in-one suit's pocket, unaware they even _had _pockets. I felt something in there as _soon _as I dug my cold hand into my right pocket. It was something flat, something made of card. I scraped my fingernails on it. The Joker chuckled at my bewildered expression.

I flipped the item out of my pocket, to see it was the Red Joker card.

My bottom lip stuttered. My mouth was opening and shutting like a goldfish.

"How the actual _hell_?" I snickered.

"Hang on," Joker sniggered, and dug into his own left pocket. Within half a second, he sprung out the Black Joker card and held it, proudly. "Ta-da! That's magic!" he cried.

"Oh my goodness," I gasped.

"Now give 'em back before I lose 'em," he ordered, gruffly.

My quivering fingers had trouble piling up the cards in between out trays of food. Eventually, I handed them back to The Joker, and with one final trick, wafted the cards in his right hand, and soon, they were out of sight. They'd snapped out of my vision, and were nowhere to be seen.

"W-What? Where did…?" I spluttered.

"They, uh…they got _away_," Joker chuckled, giving me a cunning glare. I gave him the exact same look back to him, making us look identical. "Impressive, huh?" he then asked.

"How come you never told me you could do _that_?" I exclaimed.

"That doesn't matter," he snapped. "You know _now_." He paused, taking another bit from his chicken. "Now, every day, after breakfast, the prisoners are allowed an hour of fresh air in the outside areas. I'm gonna give you until _then _to work my trick out. I have no doubt, with your, ah, _smart _mind you'll be able to tell me my little story, instantly."

"I think I know already," I grinned.

"Don't be foolish and say it out _loud_, now," my father ordered.

"You think I _would_?"

"No."

By now, my lump of indigestible food was freezing cold, but I hadn't eaten in so long, I gobbled it up anyway, to fill my eruptive stomach. The Joker was doing exactly the same, only taking much more time than I was. He was now looking down, with hooded eyes. The expression on his face was almost like he feeling his heart beat pain, but was desperate to hide it.

"Joker?" I piped up, without thinking. His eyes raised to my stare at my own, but he did not make a sound. "How…how is your therapy going?" I asked, casually, hoping it had made him a little capable to start an ordinary father-daughter conversation with me. I know I'm heartless, but sometimes I longed for the old days again.

"My, uh…my mind attempts to, be a lot simpler during 'em," he answered, expressing every word with perfect diction. "Un-fortunate-_ly_...it can't, but, uh...I like it here."

"Do you really?" I scoffed, astonished.

"Well…it's a roof over my head, free food…nice company…" I saw his eyes glimmer. "At least _now_…I have decent company."

I couldn't help smile, lovingly, a _tiny _bit at that moment.

"Well…I _guess _you're right, but…" I stammered. "I _hate _the fact they're, you know…trying to 'give me help.' I don't _need _help. Doctor Sinner says she's trying to understand what I've been going through, but she never will understand. No one can."

"What's she like?"

"She seems a bit…fake?"

"_All _doctors are _fake_, Princess Jane. You should know that."

"She seems a little difficult to talk to, which _doesn't _help. She just puts me _off_."

"Do you miss action?"

"Of _course_. I've been doing nothing but crime the majority of my life and now it's been _taken _away from me. It's like it's an addiction."

"Who says, uh…you have to make chaos with…violence? Or, uh…outrageous actions?"

"What?"

"Sometimes…chaos comes from the _mind_. In fact, it…is…born from the mind. You see, not only did _I_, uh…create havoc using a couple of detonators, fire, an' a few knives, et cetera….I also created it…_mentally_. You know? If you ask me, doll, it has _far _worse effects, and uh, you know how it works for a guy like me, don't ya? The worse it is, the better. The more _fun _it is. But like I say, I got _bored _of just _me _having the fun so I let _you _have a chance…and what did I cause you to do? _Just_ as worse. There _are _no rules where _we _come from, and that still applies in an _orderly _place like this. Besides, sweetheart, I _know _for a fact you're an agent of chaos _in the mind_, too. That Enigma person I heard on the news? I bet the whole of Gotham's _sanity_…you, uh…_persuaded _her to join you. Gave her false hope."

"I did."

"All I'm saying is, my dear, don't let a place like _this _hold ya back. It's not holding _me_ back. Nothing can. I'm _still _that dog chasing that car, I haven't caught up to it yet. You'll understand what I mean, through the educational story the cards told, hmm?"

My grin became as wide as the Cheshire Cats.

"I get you," I giggled.

"We'll discuss this further in the morning," he said, sounding like dad. "But for now, eat up."

"It _is _horrible, though," I complained, though I was still grinning.

"That doesn't matter," The Joker said. "It keeps ya _going_."

"I suppose you're right," I sighed. "I still can't believe how calm you are right now with me. I was worried you'd be a little angry."

"I _told _you why I'm calm. If we were in the middle of a room of _burning _metal right now, _that _may be a little different. I _am _glad to see you. Now, maybe I can, uh…I can _move on_."

"Move on?"

"Maybe a _little _bit trouble more from you would have been _more _fun, but it was enough, don't you think? I enjoyed seeing the mess you made when I watched the news. You work hard doing your job, my girl."

"I didn't think you'd think _that_."

"You really oughta stop worrying. I know I'm a _bad_ influence, but I told you…I'm your preacher, and I _won't_ kill you…because?"

"We're destined to work together?"

"An' how could I have _possibly_ still have carried on working in _here_ without you, huh? You had your little taste of freedom, which I promised, and _kept_, as I said I would, an' now you're here, just like I thought."

"This is _so _bizarre."

"What, sitting at the table and eating together, hmm?"

"No, no…I mean–"

"Jerry said a _beneficial _way to occupy my mind, was to do things I enjoyed, a _long _time ago."

"So you used to play with cards when you were a kid?"

"I was thinking more about…spending time with the one person I find reasonable."

"What? You mean…?"

"This is _just _like…old times."

My heart skipped a beat, as I just saw dad at that moment, when he said those words. I didn't see Joker at all. I just saw dad. The voice, the expression, everything.

"Yeah…" I breathed.

"This food isn't _terrible_," he said, cheerfully, just like dad again.

"It…it is," I sighed.

"What's the _matter _with you?" he suddenly growled.

The Joker returned to his soul immediately, making a pole shoot up me, causing me sit up straight and continue eating, at a fast pace.

The Joker's aggression was the only thing that made me nervous.

"Nothing," I mumbled, as I chewed upon my own fatty chicken.

The Joker's eyes widened and he frowned, as he watched me eat away like a starving beast. His frown then morphed into a little smile, and his eyebrows lifted.

"You _are _a silly girl," he chuckled. "Always taking things so seriously. Lighten up a bit, princess."

"Yes, sir," I giggled.

An hour speeds along too quickly. Not long after that, we were given a five minute warning to eat up before we were shoved back into our cells. I gobbled up as much as I could, despite wanting it to throw right back up onto my plate, my taste buds nearly exploding with disgust.

Soon everyone was ordered to scramble back into an orderly line.

"See ya tomorrow, you little miscreant," Joker said, as we arose from the seats to leave.

"Bye, bye," I giggled.

Every prisoner was handcuffed at the entrance door, before they were escorted out of the cafeteria. As I waited for my exit, I watched the busy cleaners panting and mumble insults under their breaths, as they speedily cleaned the horrid mess us mentally ill patients had left.

Soon, I was being guided to my cell in the psychiatric rehabilitation patients' corridor, by a single guard.

"Not a sound from you all night, you hear, girl?" he grumbled, as he unbuckled my handcuffs.

"Oh no, mister," I chuckled. "I'll be…_thinking_, all night long, even in my sleep."

"About what?"

"About a story."

"Whatever you say."

With my hands now free, he literally toppled me into my large cell, clashing the door behind me. He locked it with a large key, and sauntered briskly away.

I peered over my shoulder to once again take in what seemed like a luxurious cell. Rubbing my eyes until I made them as crimson as my hair, I slumped down onto my bed, not bothering to slip off the tight shoes they had provided on my feet.

I stared up at the ceiling, occasionally tracing my eyes towards the barred window, a gaping light just creeping through. I saw the stars smiling over Gotham, even seeing the top of a skyscraper.

I scowled.

No matter. I could compline an answer, now finally alone.

Think about how this trick started: I, the Red Joker, was facing the Queen of Hearts, in other words, the happy Sinner. My father, the Black Joker, was facing the King of Hearts, a happy Arkham. This, quite obviously, signifies myself and The Joker having our therapies with our psychiatrists.

In a way I'm still baffled as to why, these Hearts cards changed to Clubs, the cards representing darkness, when I touched them, and in addition, the Hearts cards had drawn devils on it.

What does this mean?

It means…the doctors _can _be consumed to darkness and unhappiness, but only if _we _do it with our manipulation. I could expose that. I presumed Joker was _already _doing that. Psychiatrists are stressed people. Their inner insanity could be exposed easily, and why should I care if it's exposed? It would only show the world it can happen to _anyone_, and I mean, even the most respected and _good _people, can go mad.

Think about what happened to the White Kinght, our District Attorney Harvey Dent? And whoever Batman really is, imagine what happened to him, making him decide to fight justice as a giant bat. Look what happened to Harley, once Doctor Quinzel, a woman who my dad described as highly intelligent and a teacher's pet, was now an insane hyperactive woman, obsessed and in love with a psychopathic clown.

In a way, doctors were an easy target.

Then, compiling all the cards together, he asked me to pick one. Naturally, I picked the Queen of Clubs, Doctor Sinner's Hyde. This signifies that she is my target. Joker then selected the King of Clubs, Doctor Arkham's Hyde, which was his target. We confirmed this by showing them to each other, informing one another who we need to specifically work on.

You understand?

And then, finally, _my _Joker cards, magically appearing in each of our pockets (I still have no idea how he did this).

This is the part that diddled my brain for good few minutes.

Then it struck me, like lightning had blasted through the barred window.

The Joker said they had _got away _from the other cards.

What does this mean?

Well, it signifies our _escape _of course!

My theory was exposing our doctors' _true _colours (because I knew that Doctor Sinner was a weird character already, and definitely had something to hide), however long it took, then somehow this would lead to them being too crazy to continue to be in charge of our apparent 'therapy sessions' anymore, therefore using this as an escape route. Having Harley was also useful, as she knew every inch of the place.

Despite being told to be quiet, my maniacal laughter rung out throughout the corridor that night. It was on repeat, ear-splittingly deafening, and a definite cause of driving a patient even more insane than they actually were.

The Joker was such an odd human being, but I like odd. Maybe that's why I'm odd. I wonder if oddness is genetically inherited, like the millions other things that have been inherited to my brain.

I laughed so much, that I eventually laughed myself to sleep.

However, much to my disappointment, the next morning came around ridiculously fast, _and_ early.

I was woken up by a piercing bell, and without even a hint of warning, was marched to the cafeteria for breakfast hour, with the process being identical to the even before. They even did a register like they would do at school, treating us all like toddlers.

Everything was zooming past so quickly, I didn't even know what the time of day was when I sat down for breakfast. I'd almost forgotten where I had ended up.

Harley gladly reminded me of that at breakfast. She and Ivy had had ten thousand coffees.

"It's break time after this!" Harley yapped on, taking an enormous bite out her croissant. "_Finally_. Fresh air! I can _finally _have play time!"

"Jesus, Harley," I grumbled, pushing through my hair. "_You're_ a morning person."

"Well, I've been _used_ to getting up early, thank you very much!" she laughed.

"She's had insomnia in the past," Ivy chuckled.

"It's like, the most, _tiring _thing in the _world_!" she cackled.

"You don't say," I groaned.

"Hey, Jane, do you smoke?" Ivy asked.

"I used to," I admitted, taking a sip of my orange juice made for little kids.

"Well, you're allowed to _smoke _outside!" Harley butted in.

"Oh, that's nice," I said. "I may have one. I'm too stressed and confused at the moment. Be nice to have a cigarette."

"You look like a zombie," Harley said.

"Harley!" Ivy sniggered.

"What?!" Harley exclaimed.

"Leave the poor girl alone, you nutter," Ivy chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"No, really, no insult can hurt me," I mumbled.

Harley and Ivy just gave each other an immature snicker at one another, before continuing to nibble away on their breakfasts.

Breakfast went ridiculously slow, even when Harley and Ivy left. I finished my own meal by myself, as Joker went and sat alone when he entered, the far end of the cafeteria, about five benches away from me. He gave me a feminine wave when he spotted me with his predatory eyes.

Despite being far away, I could still see the animosity twinkling in his eyes. He smirked at me as he munched fiercely on his large breakfast, and slurped on his coffee, not taking his beady eyes off me.

Time ticked away slowly, but as The Joker said, as soon as breakfast hour was over, we were all escorted, a line at a time, into the dense outdoors areas, filled with more benches. We were trapped into the area, with the metallic wire stringing around the area, and from one look at this fence, one touch would immobilise one's bones and would die within two seconds. No bodyguards were there to interfere this time. It really was like a break time at a school ground. Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, to me, was just like a school for adults.

I was let outside before The Joker, so I sat quietly at a bench and waited patiently for his arrival. Luckily, he joined me a few minutes later.

This times, The Joker sat next to me, dangerously close. His fingers stroked the wooden bench table, eventually making their way over my hand. My heart pounded at a steady beat as he squeezed my hand, extremely gently.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, softly.

"I don't know," he said, his dad voice responding immediately.

I very nearly said the word 'dad', but nibbled on my tongue before I could spout out the word that would make him beat me in front of everyone.

"What's with the…you know?" I questioned, in a shaking whisper.

"Wha_t_?" he hissed, popping the t like the sound a ticking clock would make.

"The…the hand?" I whispered.

"What about it?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

"It's not like you to be, you know…" I then mouthed the next word, "affectionate."

"I'm not," he said, frowning. He gave me a paternal animalistic glare, so I held my tongue for that moment. "I'm checking to see if you're nervous. Your hand isn't shaking."

"Why would I be nervous?"

"Everyone is nervous around a man like me. _No one_…messes with me. No one except the Batman."

"I get that," I chuckled.

"Now. You know what we're here for, doncha, little one?"

"Of course."

"Then, uh…then proceed to tell me."

He didn't let go of my hand throughout my whole explanation of the cards' story. Or rather, our escape plan, told through a magic trick.

I was starting to believe maybe parts of dad _were _escaping through him, although that seems hard to believe. The way his fingers were gripping my hand, half the size of his, they weren't there checking my nervousness at all. They were there because they wanted to be.

"Am I right?" I inquired, after explaining myself in great detail.

The Joker remained blank in his painted features.

"Your, uh…you're a girl who's one to watch," he said.

I grinned at my father.

"I'm guessing I'm right, then?" I said, filled with hope. The Joker just simply nodded, before shuffling himself a tiny amount away from me. I giggled, proudly. His hand left mine, just after patting it, gently. He then began to run his eyes around the space crammed of prisoners. Joker's body was stiffened, so I knew he was concentrating the most he could possibly manage. "Looking for someone, huh?" I giggled.

"Shh," he hissed. "I'll find 'im _any _minute now."

"_Who_?" I asked, looking out and searching like crazy myself. "Who you looking for?"

"Ah, _gotcha_," he murmured, gruffly.

"Who?" I repeated.

I attempted to look out to where his eyes were now locked onto.

"You wait here, and stay on your toes," he instructed, as he very gingerly rose to his unsteady feet.

"Okay," I said, still crazed with curiosity.

The Joker strode away into the crowd of rapturous cellmates, as our bench was merely by the entrance back into the asylum, restricted away from the rest of the area. I purposely chose that place so Joker and I could take privately.

My eyes wandered around the chaotic place. I impatiently dragged my feet underneath me, with the intention of making savagely huge holes in it, in order to get my old boots back. By now I had lost The Joker in the crowd, so my eyes were drawn to a group of sweaty prisoners, each smoking a cigarette. It made my mouth start to drool with that unwanted desire of regaining the need to smoke.

I _needed _a cigarette. I just _needed _a cigarette.

"Lost in another world, I see," a gravelly voice suddenly made my ears prick up.

I snapped my head up to see The Joker had returned. I jumped a mile when I saw a peculiar looking figure was with him.

Joining him, was an average-built cellmate, with quivering fingertips. As they both sat down opposite me, I realised I definitely was in a place that defined insanity.

The man wore a mask, that to any average person, it would have sent them running in the opposite direction, but to us, it was hilarious. The mask was indescribable, but The Joker laughed crazily along with me as I saw it.

"Who's your _friend_, Joker?!" I cackled.

The Joker composed himself, thumping his fist on the table, before he could find it in him to answer.

"I'd like you to meet Doctor Jonathan Crane," Joker sniggered.

"Wait…_Doctor _Crane?!" I cried. "This is another one of your _jokes _again!"

"Do I seem like a fantasist to you?" Joker laughed.

"No, he's right," the man spoke up, his voice muffled underneath.

He then threw it off his face and slammed it on the table before us.

I almost fell over when I saw the real man underneath. A dark-haired hunk with pale blue eyes, giving me a wonderful friendly smile of affection.

"Told ya." Joker escaped another shrill chuckle.

"My god," I breathed. "Hello."

"So wonderful to meet you, sweetheart," Doctor Crane leered, lifting my right hand lightly and giving it a gentle peck of his soft lips. He held my hand aloft for a slight second, as he admired the ring I'd forgotten was still on my index finger. "Where did you get this?" he asked, nicely.

"It was my grandmother's," I answered, grinning at The Joker. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"I'd say it matches you perfectly," Crane said, removing himself away from me. He nodded towards his bizarre mask on the table. "You like my mask?" he asked, casually. "I use it in my experiments."

A sudden thought fizzled my mind.

I squealed.

"Oh, my god, _I _know who you are now!" I exclaimed. "You're that guy who _was _a psychiatrist here, but then was found out helping that Ra's al Ghul…like…ten months ago! I saw all of it on the news ages ago!"

"The very person," he said, attentively.

"So now…you're a _patient_ here?" I questioned.

"Thrown in here not long ago when I was caught doing deals with the mob," he explained. "They hate me now."

"And me," I squeaked.

"And me," The Joker said, sounding suddenly demonic, but it did not phase either of us.

"And please, call me Scarecrow," Crane said.

"And _you_, can call me Princess Jane," I said.

"I'm aware of who you are," he went on, in an eerie voice. "Haven't you been a busy little bee? Fighting injustice?"

"Of course," I giggled.

"Good girl," Scarecrow praised.

"Listen, Crane," Joker cut in, waving his hands around, wildly. "I, ah, I didn't _introduce _you two to have a have a harmonious conversation." He then addressed me, directly. "You remember everything I told ya yesterday, your highness?"

"Yes," I replied, at once.

"Why don't you tell Crane here…what we discussed over dinner last night?" Joker enquired, giving me a toothy grin.

"He said to me that the sanest people are the ones who are easily broken," I explained, staring at Crane's eyes, which were like the sea. "I mean, Harvey Dent, Harley Quinn…you…all sorts. I know he wants us to prove it while we're spending our unfortunate hours here at Arkham, and he knows showing that can get us out of here."

"Well said, my dear," Joker sniggered.

"What do you know about Doctor Alyce Sinner?" I then asked Doctor Crane, directly, knowing it would impress Joker.

"Ah, well she's always been the kind of person who'll do _anything _to get what she wants," Crane answered, grinning. "I know for a fact she wants to be Head Psychiatrist here."

"That's exactly what Harley said," I murmured.

"I can, uh…I can back that up," Joker interrupted. "I heard it in Jerry's office last nigh_t_-_uh_. He says to her, 'If you're successful with Price, I'll give you role as Director of Arkham Asylum' and she says, 'I will _not _let you down.' There's a…hint of _lust_ in her voice, a hint of…_desperation_. I'm not a liar on that one. You look in that woman's eyes during your therapy session today, princess. You'll be able to see her determination to get that. She cares about gaining more money in her job, _no_? The more you push for it, Janey, the, uh…the_ more _she's gonna show it."

"I can only agree," Crane said.

"Do you know anything about her past?" I interrogated Crane, next.

"Good _quest-ion_, beautiful," The Joker said, sounding pleased.

"Only that her unfortunate husband passed away, and she's constantly having arguments with her religious parents," Crane replied. "In my opinion, she wouldn't ever stop talking about it when I worked with her. Someone like Alyce always seemed positive about Gotham's justice, and prosecuting people like us, but I highly believe she's a _fake_. She claims to be a highly religious woman, but I know that isn't true."

"I _knew _it," I muttered, through gritted teeth.

"She's _not _a very sympathetic person," Crane added.

"How do I know you're not lying and just saying these things to manipulate me?" I asked, cheekily.

"Does he _really _look untrustworthy to you?" The Joker piped up, in his baritone voice.

"Well, you _have _fooled so many," I said. "But I guess that's why psychiatrists are perfect targets. You _wouldn't_ suspect their capability to be so terrible."

"A very intelligent girl you have, clown," Crane said to Joker, with a gracious smile.

"I know, she takes it after me," Joker answered, licking his scars.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Wait, he _knows _that–?!" I began, angrily.

"Calm yourself, Princess Jane," The Joker ordered.

"It's only for me to know," Crane informed me. "No one else in Arkham will know yet."

"Why?" I demanded.

"The reason I introduced Scarecrow to you, doll, is that _he_…can help us through this," Joker explained, looming in closer to me. He waggled his eyebrows, his hands were cupped together. "Along with Harley, he knows a lot of things about this place, and much more about medicine than your old man. He's prepared to fight injustice, like any other _intelligent_ human being. You know how your best friend Ivy create those poisonous toxins? You know what Scarecrow makes?"

"Yes, I know," I said. "That deadly fear gas."

"Once you two escape out of here, using Sinner and Arkham's breakdowns as your key," Crane explained, "I'm going to assist your father on using my experimental gas to help you two substantiate your theory onto Gotham."

"The theory of chaos?" I guessed. "Is that a theory?"

"Look at me, your ladyship," Joker chuckled. I did so. "I once said to the Batman, that the people in this City? One day, they'll sit up, and realise they need to rebel. You know that thing you love? Revenge?" I nodded and a large grin started to grow on my lips. The Joker licks his own red lips, greedily. "You can get it. On the mob."

"I can?"

"Once we get out of here. All good things come to those who _wait_. Plus, Gotham would surely, uh, wanna know the great psychological cause of their most trusted psychiatrists."

"Oh…oh I _bet _they would," I laughed.

"We can show 'em that," The Joker went on. "Just imagine, sweetheart, what will happen when they discover what we _terrible _people have done to those doctors, what we've _drilled _into their minds. Just think how the _mob _will react when they see us using Crane's _effective_ drugs on people, once we escape."

"What he means by that, Jane," Crane cut in, "is that the effects of the drugs I gave to the mob dealers were no good. I just have a feeling they wanted a little more than I gave them, despite them being pleased and _me _being disappointed. The truth of the matter is, I _really _wanted them to have more. I found it foolish they wouldn't accept it."

"They'll be after _me_ after what I did to the Falinos," I pointed out.

"Mm-hmm," Joker muttered.

"So can we intoxicate all those morons with it?!" I cried.

"Patience," Joker said. "First we have to use our therapies as a way of luring the _bait_…to begin that."

"For someone who says they don't plan ahead, you've got this all noted down pretty well," I chuckled to The Joker.

"It could _all _change," The Joker insisted. "Remember, that _car_. That car is _still _going."

"We really _are_ crazy, aren't you?" I laughed, callously.

"No," they both said, blankly.

"No…no, not _really_," I sighed. "Just proving a point, aren't we? So where exactly we gonna use this fear gas?"

"It'll be a surprise," The Joker replied, flatly.

"Hmm. I _guess _I can wait," I sighed.

"You're one of those girls who goes and gets what she wants, aren't you?" Crane questioned me.

"You want me to prove it?" I scolded, folding my arms, ignorantly.

"Show 'em," The Joker ordered, a malicious tone clutching his voice, making is voice sound more intimidating than usual.

The whole talk about chaos and manipulation had been creating a fire inside my stomach, and given the instruction to create my own trouble, made me soar from the bench.

I skipped out into the crowd.

I knew exactly what I wanted. A cigarette.

My observant eyes instantly found a short man, not far from where we were sitting, smoking a delicious cigarette. He was leaning against the wall, smoking it, like he was posing for magazine.

"Hey you!" I barked, making my call a purposely irritating bellow.

The man exhaled a long puff of smoke, before giving me a petulant look.

"What?" he snapped.

I nibbled on my bottom lip, placing my hands behind my back, sweetly. I rocked on my toes and heels, batting my long eyelashes at him.

"Can I have one of your cigarettes?" I asked, politely, despite smirking like a conniving bitch.

"Puh, what makes you think I'll let _you _have one, eh?" he scoffed, his voice sliding across his tongue uncontrollably.

"Please, mister," I begged. "I asked nicely."

"Wait a minute, are you that Jane Price?" he chuckled. "The little murderous girl?"

"That's me," I giggled.

"Ooh, you might _pin _me down if I don't let you have one, hey, girly?"

"That's _exactly _what I'll do. It's not your _twice _my size, is it?"

"You little _bitch_," he growled, suddenly looming above me.

"Careful not to lash out at me, I'm only a little girl!" I laughed.

"Yeah, right."

The guy suddenly got too close to me, flicking his cigarette away. I quickly glanced down at his fingers. They were trembling madly. I could feel the raging anger boiling from him, starting to fizzle from him so suddenly.

I saw his hands move upwards.

I flinched violently.

A voice yelled at me.

I grunted and with a powerful force, punched him directly in his nose. He jerked backwards, groaning in shocked pain, overflowing my adrenaline even further. I howled with laughter as he struggled to stay on his feet, bumbling around like a comedic mime, eventually toppling over completely, his head crashing against the wall as he fell down.

The criminals around me started jeering wildly at this display, some even started applauding me.

I squealed and took a little bow before them. I looked down upon the bewildered prisoner again.

"_Please _may I borrow one of you now?" I asked him, wailing with laughter.

He couldn't answer with speech, only stuttering. I was bending over and giving him the most innocent look I could imagine.

However, how he reacted was not what I was expecting.

He staggered to his feet abruptly.

"I'm gonna _kill _you!" he boomed, shaking with embarrassment. "You _bitch_!"

His hand raised to me, but before I could react, a huge blow to the man's back caused him to ascend brutally, back down to the ground, landing on his knees and scraping his hands across the concrete.

I looked to my side to see The Joker had rushed to my aid. Everyone surrounding us immediately cowered backwards, all except me, who watched with adoration filling my eyes.

The Joker had obviously kicked him hard in his back, and he was soon above him, preventing him from getting up to continue his feud with me. Joker snarled under his breath, grabbing the guy by his collar and smashing him against his body, towering above him, obviously wanting to examine the fear in his eyes.

"Well, well, I guess clowns _do _strike fear into the hearts of criminals," The Joker spat, venomously.

"Fuck you, clown!" the man's feeble comeback was.

"Such _language_," The Joker sneered. "You gonna strike out on a little girl, huh?"

"Why would _you _care, clown?" the man retorted. "And anyway, if you didn't see, _she _went for me first!"

"You were getting to _close _to her!" The Joker shouted, in a demonic voice, which even made me step backwards, nervously. "We're _all _supposed to get along here, so why don't you _answer _her wishes?"

"I was _going _to, if that fat bitch there gave me a chance before _punching _me!"

"Did you just call me fat?" I questioned.

"_Do it_, then, patient…" Joker looked down at the number on his shirt. "Patient 6662."

"No, wait, I'm _not _fat!" I yelled.

The Joker released him, while the man began to rummage through his pockets. I was unable to keep still as I was beginning to feel the burning invade my body and mind. The Joker by now had come up close to me, and stood directly behind me.

"I, uh…did that to _help_ you," he sneered, into my ear. "People in this place say the _craziest _of things. I've gotten used to that. Show Doctor Crane what you're made of."

He removed himself away from me. I glared down at the man on the floor, now holding a cigarette and a lighter in one hand. He held them up to me.

"Happy now?" he scolded.

"No," I answered. "No, I'm _not _happy."

"Huh?" he fumbled.

A gunshot blew off inside my head, making me glide towards him. I shrieked angrily, climbing viciously on top of him, and with the fire raging inside my throbbing mind, I began to relentlessly punch the man in the face. I did it continuously, not giving him the chance to fight back.

The crowd around us began to cheer again. Some were even shouting out words of encouragement to me, just making me beat him even more aggressively. I wanted to make sure his eyes were blackened and even tried to fracture his skull, pounding his head onto the floor. When I saw blood starting to stream out from his nose, I began to giggle.

With one last punch, my tiredness made me clamber off him. I reached down and snatched the cigarette and lighter in his hand, while I listened to the thunderous cheering and applause the mentally ill patients praised me with.

"I'm gonna _need _this now, with how much you _pissed me off_," I snarled down at him, and spat down on his pathetic face. I stormed back over to The Joker, who had returned to where we were sat.

My anger wouldn't die, and in a most unusual state, I didn't head straight for The Joker, instead darting towards the wall, greeting it with a harsh kick, which I received no pain from.

I released my anger my thumping every part of my body against the wall, before eventually spinning around, slithering down the wall, and shakily beginning to put the cigarette to use.

The Joker joined me when I sat down.

"Oh dear," he chuckled, patting my knee. "Seems the girl I trained is still about."

"She always _has _been," I mumbled, taking my first dose of the cigarette.

"Jane, look at me," he instructed. Exhaling a huge amount of smoke, I looked at him, panting hard from my attack. "See, once in a while, you get some action in this place, particularly, if, uh, someone…you know…makes you angry."

"How come you defended me?" I asked.

"I didn't, I _helped_ you," Joker insisted, giving me that parental look. "You know I always help you."

"I guess so," I sighed.

"You all calm now, little one?"

"A little. _You're _not…you know…angry, are you?"

"Oh no. Not with _you_, anyway. Just with life."

"Tell me about it."

"There's tons of bad people in the world, but there's tons of bad _criminals_, too. Most of 'em are in this place. So, us, _good _criminals gotta to all the dirty work-ah."

"You're right. Which is why we're doing what we do best to get _out _of here and then have some _more _fun, eh, boss?"

"That's my girl," he chuckled, licking his chops again. "But, uh…all _you _gotta do is use that little _mind _of yours to do the work, you understand? Me…I _know _what I'm gonna do…oh yes…so don't question it, just leave me to it."

"Of course I will. I know what you're like."

"And _I _know what _you're _like."

"Do you reckon this therapy works?"

"I don't know. On _some _folks it will."

"Do you reckon it's working on you?"

He shrugged.

"Don't ask me, I'm just uh…just a _maniac_, as they call me."

"It's okay, I am too."

He place his hand on my knee again.

"Oh, Jane, Jane, Jane…our minds, huh?" he said. "I'm still confused about 'em."

"Me too," I sighed.

"Well, you _know _our process, hmm?" I nodded. "Just be sharp and, uh…be _consistent_ with it, Princess Jane. I won't give ya tips. I know you're a little troublemaker."

"I know what I'm doing," I giggled, determinedly.

"Even if this takes, uh…a long time…just remember, all good things–"

"Come to those who wait," I finished.

He gave me a dad smile, before ruffling my hair, and leaving me in peace to smoke my anger away.

I watched Joker saunter away into the crowd, and as I looked back up to the bench, I saw Scarecrow was gone.

The stone on my grandmother's ring twitched my eye, so I talked to it, for the rest of the break.

My father and I's process would begin after I had lunch.

Someone came into my cell, about twenty minutes after lunch hour, where I was flicking the channels on my static television. I was hoping to see some news on Chase making his gallant escape, but of course, there was nothing about him that I saw on GCN.

The person who collected me, dragged me out of my cell and strapped handcuffs on my wrists, and led me towards Psychiatric Rehabilitation Room #8, where I was told to sit and wait for Doctor Sinner.

This time, I knew exactly how to approach the session. I would not be awkward this time. I knew how to talk to Alyce Sinner, had an idea on what to aggravate her about, but most importantly, I said to myself, tell her everything _you _want to tell her, not everything _she _wants to know. After all, these therapies were supposed to be about _my _well-being, right?

Alyce Sinner, looking identical from the previous day, entered the room, about five minutes later, carrying her beloved clipboard. My eyes scurried up towards her, immediately wanting to see her expression. Once again, it seemed pleasant and willing, but at the same time, I could see the fake sympathy in her features almost instantly.

"Good morning, Jane," she greeted, with an enthusiastic tone, taking her seat opposite me. "How are you? Are you comfortable?"

"No," I said.

"Are you feeling more relaxed today?"

"Do you mean myself, as a whole, or my mind?"

"You, as a whole."

"A little."

"Great."

"Better after I saw The Joker last night at dinner and this morning."

I gave her a mischievous smirk, pulling myself further into the table. Having control, which she was unaware I had yet, made a tiny adrenaline whizz through me, of course making me feel like I could take on anything Doctor Sinner had prepared for me.

"That's good," Doctor Sinner said. "Although I hope you two are not planning some sort of conspiracy to escape. The asylum is guarded and secure at every door."

"The Joker doesn't _plan_, Doctor Sinner," I bluffed. "And anyway, we just had a little _catch up_, you know...telling each other how our therapies are going. He even showed me a few playing card tricks."

"Oh, I see. Another thing, Jane. Don't think myself and Doctor Arkham are unaware of your behaviour this morning outside during the fresh air hour. We're not going tolerate that kind of behaviour."

"You mean beating up that guy?" I derided. "Please. He got in my face when I only asked for a cigarette. What did you expect me to do? Win rock, paper, scissors in order to get a ciggy? Don't be silly. "

"You must be aware that kind of behaviour is noted down by us and can be used in court and on your reports."

"And I should _care_?"

"We're getting off track. Now, Jane. Yesterday we discussed your symptoms, how they affect you, and the basic overview of these sessions' objectives."

"May I ask you something, Doctor Sinner?"

"Yes?"

"The ribbons in your hair, what's that all about?"

"That's not something we need to discuss, Jane."

"Please tell me, Doctor Sinner. I _like_ you, so I wanna know."

She sighed, and gave me a quizzical look.

"Well, I was brought up very religious," she began.

"Oh, so you're a believer in that bullshit, are you?"

"These seven ribbons," she continued, ignoring my statement, "represent the seven deadly sins."

My eyebrows raised in shock, but a smile of my dangerous curiousness formed across my black lips.

"Interesting," I said, with a low chuckle.

"Please, Jane, let's focus on you."

"But I'm _such_ a boring person to focus on," I muttered.

"Please, keep this as professional as possible," Doctor Sinner continued, with an edge of impatience to her voice. "You _know_ I must ask for your full cooperation, like I told you yesterday. I know this can be hard for you, but please try and do your best."

"You know, you seem too _nice_ to be a psychiatrist. I thought they were meant to be so harsh and determined to do their job correctly."

"I _am_," she snapped.

I smirked at the sudden retaliation from my doctor, at the first mention of her job. She instantly realised this and shook it off immediately, and by that, I mean quite literally. She shook her head frantically to get over herself. The Joker was absolutely right. She was determined to be a successful psychiatrist to me, to become Director of Arkham Asylum. I knew it from the moment I saw her there was something fake about her, but I kept in mind what my father had said the night before: let them find out anything they want, they're trying to help you, so why not help them fulfil their desires too? But it would be an awful shame if it was snatched away at the last moment.

"I'm sorry I suggested it, Doctor Sinner," I said, in a fake sweet voice.

She cleared her throat and tucked herself in further. She picked up her pen in her dainty hands and began writing.

"Patient...7758...day...two," she recited, writing with her speedy fingers. "Now," she then addressed me, looking up. I smirked at her, sitting up as straight as possible, prepared to answer any daunting question she was going to throw in my face. "Yesterday you seemed a bit uncomfortable with the session, which is why, today, I'd thought we'd talk about something a little different."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Well, in order to understand the causes of your behaviour, we must understand how they came to be."

"But you already know the answer to that. My lack of...human normality. _That's_ the method. The things I have that you folk like to call 'disorders.' That's what causes my 'bad' behaviour."

"Yes, but we must get to know about how they came to be, Jane."

"I told you that yesterday, too." I paused as she gave me a puzzled look. I grunted. "You know...genetics..." I added, wincing.

I _hate_ the fact I can't talk about my 'little problems' properly. It was becoming even more of a struggle now, talking to a doctor. It was easier talking about it to Commissioner, or even talking about it to you, because I _want _to. Anyway, I bragged about my turbulent childhood to Gordon because I _wanted _to manipulate him into feeling just a tint sorry for me, as well as wanting to prove a point to him.

"Ah, yes, but there is a developmental stage in mental disorders," Doctor Sinner went on. "Today I'd like to discuss these developmental stages. It's important for me to know how they have affected your life up to this point. By doing this, I can decide upon the best approach to help improve your well-being and your attitude to life. You clear with that, Jane?"

Although I wasn't completely, I nodded anyway. I took in her kind smile, realising her filthy fake presence was increasing more and more with the invisible frustration inside herself.

"Doctor Sinner?" I piped up.

"Yes, Jane?" she inquired.

"You _do_ know you don't have to talk in this...'professional' sounding way...I'm a _kid_, at the end of the day. You can talk to me more...uh..._informally_...you know?"

"I like to keep this as professional as possible."

"If you insist," I sighed. "Oh by the way, will I have to explain in detail all the things I've done, that, uh, society pitch as bad things? Because I _can_. In good detail. And I can explain my motives too, but, uh…bad times in my _past_…not so much."

"We don't have to discuss your recent behaviour right now, Jane. We firstly have to discuss _why_ your behaviour has become violently extreme, before we discuss your motives and feelings towards your actions alongside The Joker in the past few weeks. Now, Jane, the first thing I must ask you."

"Go on," I beamed, leaning back comfortably in my chair.

"I'm going to give you a simple thing to discuss first."

"Does this involve talking about the shitty times in my childhood?" I grumbled.

"Please, watch your language, Jane. Well, surely not _all_ of your childhood was unpleasant?"

I pretended to think hard.

"Uh...well...most of it was," I murmured.

"What's your earliest memory, Jane?"

"Earliest memory?" I made a mocking noise, sounding like a starving horse in a stable. "I have _too many_, Doctor Sinner."

"What's your most poignant earliest memory?" Doctor Sinner questioned.

"Oh that's easy," I explained, grinning, as I recalled the memory easily. "I was five. I was coming out of kindergarten one day, my father was there to pick me up. Some boy had been making fun of struggling to recognise numbers and was still poking fun at me as we were walking out. My father saw the anger starting to build inside me, and the next thing I know, he's encouraging me to beat that boy's ass, belting out his encouragement like he was training me for wrestling. So I did. In front of everyone, even the parents. My dad didn't care, he wanted me to fight, you see, make other kids aware I wasn't one to be crossed. He ran me home before anyone rang the police on us."

"Was your father _always_ like this?"

"Not always. He was gentle most of the time."

"He never abused you?"

"Oh no. _Never_. Well...he shouted at me sometimes, but what parent doesn't?"

"So you had a good relationship with your father?"

"I still do."

"You regularly see him?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And what does _he_ think about your behaviour?"

"Well...he _knows_ how it feels, you see, to be angry at the world. He has a lot of problems himself. Inside his mind and out."

"What about your mother? What was your relationship like with her?"

"Not wonderful, really. She was okay, she was just off her face most of the time, you see. I saw it in her eyes. You know, the...the pain. I knew she wasn't happy, but she always seemed to take it out on me."

"Was she ever abusive?"

"There was _one_ night, where she _did_ nearly hit me, because my mind was _pounding_ and I threw a pair of scissors at the glass door. Luckily, my father was there to stop it."

"Was she addicted to any sort of substances?"

"Is ignorance a substance?"

"Please, Jane, answer the question." My low chuckle became a thunderous, chilling laugh, which belted out from the back of my throat. I knew it was chilling because Doctor Sinner shivered. I found her cluelessness about what was really my problem as a child completely laughable. "Is something funny?" she asked, calmly.

"No!" I squealed. "Just _you_. You don't have a clue. Huh...but to answer your question, my mother was an alcoholic. I pretty dumb one too."

I laughed mockingly, again, while Doctor Sinner nervously cleared her throat, and edged away from the table a little, scraping her chair backwards with her.

"What do you think made your childhood particularly bad?" she then asked.

"I think you already know the answer to _that_, Doctor Sinner," I muttered.

"What stands out for you as a major factor of your childhood being...say..."

"Shit?"

"Let's use the word, unenjoyable."

"But not _all_ of it was unenjoyable."

"You say you were diagnosed with schizophrenia at the age of seven. Surely _this_ affected you greatly as a child, as it still does today. There must be a reason it became rapidly worse."

"Fantastic," I said, blankly, clicking the c. "You _finally_ got there. Took a while to figure _that_ one out, huh, Alyce?"

She didn't bother to correct me this time.

Now, for the first time, she etched out her best scowl on her face for me. I could almost feel the impatience boiling from her. I just simply smiled. Doctor Sinner sighed and composed herself, lifting her pen flicking the clipboard with the end.

"Now, Jane," she mumbled. "I wonder if you could tell me more about coping with this growing up."

"I told you yesterday," I said. "I don't think my so-called problems in my mind justify my behaviour completely, they only justify madness. You also know I _don't_ like to talk about it."

"But could you tell me how it worsened or, say...became more extreme."

"Well...it got _worse_...after I had my first meltdown at ten, the day I found out my mother was dead."

"Oh, right," she replied, grumpily.

I cocked my head to the left, curiously observing the psychiatrist, immediately taking grasp of her fake sympathy she'd just shown me. I believed I was showing someone untrustworthy their true colours just using my mind and speech, without even having to hold a gun in my hand. My heart was racing with wonder and excitement. It was racking even more than my head. Maybe I was smarter than I thought.

"Isn't that _terrible_, Doctor Sinner?" I asked, in a patronising tone.

"Of course it's terrible, dear," she said.

"You would understand, something like that will haunt me forever," I went on. "It still _does_. I still hear her sometimes."

"You can still hear your mother?"

"Her scream. She screams at me constantly. She always screamed at my father, too. Murdered, she was. In cold blood." I shrugged. "Well, obviously, from _there_, it just got worse and worse and worse."

"What was this due to?"

"Crime. Uh...abuse...what I mean by that is, I abused my boyfriend because I can never control my anger. I guess...another thing that made it worse, was...uh..."

"Drugs?"

"No."

"Depression?"

"Unfortunately."

"What made you start criminal activity?"

My smile then transformed into a glare, with infernos dotted in my eyes, staring at my doctor, as I knew this subject would remind me of times filled with nothing but anger, though some of it, in fact, a lot of it, was fun, my mind could never remind me of times of enjoyment without casting a shadow over it.

"I think you're pushing it a bit," I growled.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"That's okay," I lied.

"But growing up with this, it was hard for you?"

"Very hard. You ask _any_ patient under this roof. They _know_ what it's like to battle with their mind every day. Even just _talking_ about it, it makes everything start to reel inside the mind, and I don't want to end up killing you. That's why I think it's wise _not_ to talk about the events in my life which caused it to worsen, Doctor Sinner. _Especially_ in my childhood."

"Could you tell me when it got progressively worse?"

"I was about fourteen, fifteen, when it started making me go…what you people call 'insane'."

"Stress?"

"_Yes_...look I just _said_, Doctor, it won't be wise if you discuss it further. We're getting on great, don't ruin it."

"I understand. But I must get information on a particular event or time which made it worse?"

I made an obvious angered sigh, not taking my eyes of the persisting doctor.

"I'll tell you _everything_ you need to know...in good time..." I said, as calmly as possible, purposely making her aggravated. "Once I'm...you know...in a better state. Don't push me to get mad. I've given you the basic answers. Stress, crime, depression, my own abuse, etc. No further detail. For now, all you need to know...is it got worse because...of one man...who caused the downfall of my father."

"Your father?"

"Yes."

"Okay." I waited as she tossed her hair to one side. The doctor hurriedly wrote down some more long listed notes, as I clicked my tongue to distract myself from the bloody war starting to rise up in my mind, slowly, but ready to bite away at my hopes. "Was there anything as a child that caused your mental illness to affect you more?" she persisted, asking like it was a completely new question.

"Didn't you hear a _word_ of what I just said?" I demanded.

"It is important you tell me," she said, now with a rougher edge to her voice.

"Why?"

"So it's easier for me to help you cope with these events."

"What happened to the whole you trying to understand me and everything, Doctor Sinner?" I said, cheekily.

She sighed in blatant annoyance.

"Very well," she mumbled. "But it's something we must discuss _sooner_ or later."

"I understand that," I replied, sweetly. "But you seem to fail to grasp the idea of trying to understand my point of view."

"I'm not, I'm very good at my job."

"Hmm."

"You must _know_ that."

"I know that. Anyway, you've got _some_ notes on it haven't you?"

"Not nearly enough," she complained.

"I've _told_ you key times in my life it got worse, what else do you need to know?"

"I need a lot more detail."

"You'll have to wait."

"You can't try my patience forever."

"I _am_ a patient, though," I snickered at my own terrible joke.

Doctor Sinner groaned again, slamming her pen down, and exhaling several times. I continued to smile as kindly as I could at her, wanting to manipulate her mind as much as I could. It was turning out to be disturbingly fun to me at the moment, especially as I hadn't told her one of the key events: the day I was violently raped by Theo Hatchett.

"Moving on with something else, then, Jane," she said, regaining her cheerfulness slightly. "As a child, what activities did you enjoy doing?"

"None," I lied, just to provoke her further.

"There must have been _something_ you enjoyed!" she exclaimed.

"Well...there was _one_ thing I liked," I said, relaxing substantially in my chair, as the few decent memories popped back into my mind.

"What was it?" Doctor Sinner asked.

"Art," I sighed, happily. "Art and drawing. Creating things. Designing clothes."

"Ah, really?" she said, intrigued. She began jotting down notes immediately. "That's interesting."

"I was fairly good at it, too," I recalled, drumming my fingers on the table.

"When was the last time you drew something?" she enquired.

"Uhh..." I thought hard. "Uh...a few months ago? Well, when I drew a _picture_. I drew a design of clothes not that long ago."

"When?"

"A few weeks ago? I can't remember exactly. The past seems to be a _blur_, now, Doctor Sinner."

"So drawing occupied your mind? Kept you motivated?"

"Oh, absolutely. It was the only thing I was good at in school."

"You said you like creating things too? What kind of things?"

"Characters."

"Oh I see, so you liked to write stories?"

"I was in the middle of a _fantastic_ one before I decided to work with The Joker."

"How interesting. You seem very creative. Your speech certainly shows your ability with words."

"_Does_ it, though? Does it _really_?"

"Trust me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"So from what you've told me, I think I have an idea for you, Jane."

"Oh, great," I grumbled. "What's that, then?"

"If you wait here, I'll go and collect it for you."

"What is it?"

Ignoring my question, she stood abruptly, and dashed out of the room. Within two tedious minutes, she bustled back in, carrying a large notepad.

"Here we are," she declared, sounding mighty pleased with herself. "I want you to use this to be able to escape from everything. When you feel the need, just draw a picture, design something, write a story. Do something creative. Maybe even write down your thoughts and feelings about our sessions. You could even show me if you like, you thoughts. It would be interesting to see."

I exchanged glances from the doctor, to the large drawing pad before me. Despite feel my blood begin to heat up my head from being spoken to like a child, that Shaylee part of me felt the temptation. No, Jane wanted to do it. Jane wanted to be creative. Jane would write down exactly how she was feeling, not how Shaylee was feeling. Jane would sketch out her emotions.

I guess Shaylee could be involved, however.

"I like this idea, Doctor Sinner," I said, brightly, with a fake smile.

"Oh, I'm glad about that," she sighed, sounding enormously relieved. "Maybe in fact, if you're having trouble telling me face to face the key events that effected you're mental health, you could write about it in here, and show it to me."

"Maybe," I muttered.

"I _should_ have thought of this before," Doctor Sinner said.

"Yeah, you _really_ should," I chuckled, purposely winding her up.

"Does that sound like a good idea, then?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, blankly.

"Well, that turned out to be much easier than I thought," she chuckled, pushing the pad forward into my clammy palms. "You take that, then. Now, before I end the session, is there anything else you want to ask me?"

I smirked, seeing the opportunity to learn the truth about her, crawl over to me, easily.

"Yes," I said, in a perilous tone. "I want to ask you...do you see your parents a lot?"

Doctor Sinner looked dumbfounded at the question.

"I see them enough," she surprisingly answered.

I could tell she was attempting to keep herself composed, making my fingers twitch with excitement.

"Enough?" I asked, encouraging her to elaborate.

"I see them _enough_," she repeated.

"Do they support you?" I questioned.

"Of...of course," she stammered.

"I guess they admire your work ethic."

"Absolutely. _Damn_ right they should."

"You should be grateful you have _both_ of your parents alive and well. _Some_ people don't _have_ theirs."

"I know," she snapped, rather ignorantly.

"No need to get _moody_ with me, Doctor Sinner," I giggled. "I only asked a question."

"I told you we're not here to discuss my life, we're here to help yours," she informed me.

"Are you married?" I then asked, pleasantly.

"Jane, we really must end the session now," she insisted, rising to her feet.

"In a relationship?"

She sighed.

"I _used_ to be married," she finally admitted.

"Ah!" I exclaimed. "Divorcee, are we?"

"No. Widow. Now, please, wait here while I get assistance to lead you out."

Soon enough, the very same bodyguard came to march me back to my cell, the short session ending badly.

I took my notepad with me, and as soon as I was released back into my cell, handcuffs taken away, I sat myself neatly at the desk they provided in there, and picked up a pencil that was lying there, just waiting to be drawn with.

I wasn't quite sure how to feel at this moment.

Nevertheless, pencil was put to paper, and for the first time in a long time, I let my mind be free of my deceitful self. I let Shaylee come out and draw, because as soon as it was over, I could once again sleep as Jane.

Turning to the first untouched, fresh page, where the tip of the pencil cracking as I began the first line, which made me smile.

I carefully outlined a dirty, huge red-brick building, a starlit sky towering over it. The roof of the building kissed the stars up above. Below it, a dark-haired woman lay on her side, her body mangled, and abandoned by the rest of the world. Her crimpled face could not be seen, as her black hair was covering her face, sticking to the sweat smothering her face. Her hand flopped above her head, and clutched into her palm was a simple knife, the blade insultingly blunt, with blood dripping from the cool blade, spouting onto her hair. Around her was nothing but a pitch black street. The streetlights had flickered out, and the woman was in nothing but foggy darkness.

Plastered on the building's walls, I wrote the words 'ARKHAM ASYLUM' in giant letters. Underneath the woman's body, I then wrote the initials 'A.S.' with 'R.I.P' comfortably sitting next to it.

With the lack of coloured pencils, I just simply made the sky of Gotham gloomy, shading it with a light shade of grey, from the very tip of the pencil. Every area of the picture was coloured with a different shade of grey, her hair being the darkest shade.

Before I finished my effortless work, I scribbled my name in the bottom corner: _Princess Jane Price_.

I chuckled as I admired my finished work. I carefully teared it out of the pad, and placed it in the draw in my desk. I folded it very carefully, before placing it inside, almost like I was tucking a child into bed.

With my mind now racing excitedly with my only talent being brought back to me (and Doctor Sinner annoyingly being correct about the fact it occupied my mind, soothing it into strange relaxation), I quickly flipped over to a fresh page.

The tip of the new blunt pencil touched the paper, but then I stopped.

Whatever should I write?

An argument suddenly swarmed inside my head.

"Shut up," I sighed. "Don't give me writer's block, you little shits."

Taking deep breaths to compose myself, I eventually wrote the words '_The Adventures of Jane the Slave's Revenge_', in swirly letters at the top of the page.

_Jane nestled herself into her dreams. She was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable Moskins' bed was. Her weary head rested upon the huge pillow, placing her soft hand underneath her cold face. Scrunching her eyes shut, she prayed._

_'__Please, God, please let someone come and save me,' she whispered, in her gentle voice._

_Her fingers gripped onto the pillow's silky material. Very soon, the material dampened with her loud tears._

_'__Shut up!' a monstrous voice bellowed from the next room. 'Shut up, you stupid whore!'_

_Jane's next breath trembled, as she escaped a tiny, childlike whimper. She gripped the sheets even more, wanting everything to stop._

_Why couldn't everything stop?_

My wrist ached, causing me to slump back onto my bed and gaze up at the bland ceiling. I sighed heavily, running my fingers through my bare skin again.

I missed my makeup.

Writing about the original Jane Price just didn't seem right anymore, but then again, giving up didn't seem right for me either.

I thought about what Doctor Sinner had said, as much as I knew she was an enemy.

Write about your thoughts and feelings. Write about the events that caused me to be this heartless freak.

There was still some time before dinner.

So I took myself back to the desk, found a pen, smudgy with ink inside the drawer, and began a clean page, after the _Jane the Slave _extract.

And so, I began writing this story. My story. The one that explains those events, the one that explains how I feel, from the beginning. If there's any way to relieve it, this is the way, away from the world.

But one things for sure, Doctor Sinner will never get to have a peep at this. Maybe someone will someday though.

If you _are _reading this, don't think this is the end of the story. Do you really think I wouldn't fill you in on how our escape is going to go? No. When we do, I'll find the time to fill you in.

I hope when I write about it, my hands are quivering with that adrenaline I feel when I'm holding a knife, belittling an enemy with it, and informing them that _I _have control of them, because right now, _I am _in control.

* * *

_**And by the way, this isn't the end of Enigma or Chase and stuff. They will return, for what reason you will need to wait and ****find out ;) ...**_


	28. The Seven Deadly Sins

_**This chapter is canonical, but it different from previous chapters. You'll have to read on to discover why it's different to the previous chapters, but I decided to do something a little bit different. This is mainly to show how insane she is but also how**** much she has lost touch from reality is also shown.**_

_**I wanted to see how this style of chapter worked, but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think via a review! **_

_**NOTE: The tone of this overall is very dark, especially shown in the voice.**_

* * *

**Chapter 27 - The Seven Deadly Sins**

Late November, 2008.

Seems to me like the citizens are getting an early Christmas. According to relentless updates on GCN, Gordon is patrolling the City again, since he threw me behind a cell for crazy people, making sure some overrated happiness was filled back in the city, after all the chaos. The Batman had completely vanished, and has not been seen since that night Gordon's family were nearly blown up. Every time I have seen snippets of the news on the television in my cell, it's almost always been about repairing my rightful damage to the crumbling property, or Gotham's laughable little celebrations, that they're now safe from the clown's wrath.

They shouldn't celebrate too quickly, however.

It won't be long until I get out of here.

How's the psychiatric rehabilitation going?

Well, Doctor Sinner whimpered to me last week, during our session in the blustery afternoon, that it's good to recall one's past relationships. With tears invading her eyes, her voice tangled up in piercing cries, she explained to me that all it takes is to be with one single person, for what seems like a lifetime, and it can change everything. A partner can change someone forever. She whined that recalling past love, can remind someone of their 'happy' times.

This was something I had been wanting to talk about since the second session.

"Why?" I asked, as I shaded in my drawing of a crushed bat corpse in front of me. "Why only _one_ person, Doctor Sinner?"

"Whether it's good or bad," she whispered, "all it takes is for that one person to walk into your life and everything can change in a matter of minutes."

"Is that what happened with _you_, and _your _husband?" I giggled, snapping my head up at her, taking my focus away from the picture.

I had learned that drawing my eyes directly onto her face, which was deteriorating in expression as the weeks went by, thanks to my quick mind, made her start to fumble in her seat more and more. I didn't dare flinch my eyes away from her face while she was giving me an answer. That would just be rude. I noticed she also didn't want to pin her eyes on me as we discussed my life events. Or rather, hers. She dotted them around the bland, empty room. They were becoming uneasy, just like her speech.

"Of…course it was…Jane," she muttered in reply. "Of course."

"What did he do that was so special?" I interrogated.

"What any normal husband does," was the shaky reply.

"Nurse you? Comfort you?" I said. The doctor nodded. "Beat you up?" The doctor nodded again. I gasped. "_Really_?!"

"What? No!" Doctor Sinner cried. "Not at all."

"But he _must _have at least _shouted _at you," I said, loudly. "_My _boyfriend did when I was with him. He still does now, and we broke up over a year ago."

"Let's talk about your relationship with that boy," she suggested.

"So your husband _was _violent?"

"We're getting off-track."

"_Please_, Doctor Sinner–"

"No! It's not for you to know."

"You could always gain revenge on him, you know."

"He's _dead_!"

"So? He has a grave."

"Don't be disgusting."

"All it takes is a matchstick to start a fire and boom his flowers start to die. It resembles what he did to you."

"_Jane_!" she barked.

"What?" I said, not flinching.

"Look, it my job to _treat _you," she panted. "_Not _to discuss my personal life with you as if you were my daughter or my friend."

"I only asked."

"Well, don't ask. You _know _what we're here for."

"Shouldn't you be pleased that I _actually _wanna talk about something _other _than myself?"

"That's what we _should _be talking about. Not _me_."

"But we're friends," I grinned, giving her a creepy wink.

"We're not," she snapped.

"Bit harsh," I chuckled, folding my arms.

"You are my patient, _I _am your doctor," she decreed, pointing to herself, importantly. "That is it."

"And you are, uh…you _are _a good doctor," I complimented. I then smirked as a lightbulb flashed above my head. "You know, Doctor Sinner, you should be _more _than the Doctor Arkham's assistant here," I began to aggravate her. "You should be the Head."

"I know," she mumbled. "I'm trying. Maybe I will one day, but I have to prove I am capable of changing someone's life." Her voice cracked.

"Bless you," I chuckled.

This was only last week. Imagine how she's going to be by New Year. How thrilling would it be to see a doctor an emotional wreck when they're supposed to be the kindest and most composed people on the planet?

I believe it's coming along gradually. I can see it in the depths of her eyes.

It's been over three months since I was thrown behind bars. Every day I've been doing as I've been asked, which as you know, is something I _never _to, unless of course it's father's orders.

I've been writing _everything_ Doctor Sinner suggested I write every day. Writing down my thoughts and feelings, describing the events that got me to where I am, right now: a prisoner against my own morbid mind. Only, as you know, I've taken it beyond, and told a complete drama novel, because my life _is_ the biggest drama that _I've _ever known. Every detail of my story has nibbled onto my brain these past few months, allowing me to freely be concentrated for a long period of time, and it's been a while since _that's _happened.

Three months and every detail of my life and events so far, that have been jammed up inside my bruised brain, has been described on paper by me, in every gruesome little detail that I delightfully remember. From that first moment I felt the madness, right up until now.

But there is _no way _Doctor Sinner will be seeing _my _story.

If anyone _is_ happening to be reading this right now, and you started from the beginning, you're probably highly disappointed now I'm not writing narratively, and now I'm just ranting on about nothing interesting in particular.

That's not the case, my friend.

You all probably hate me for what I've done. Well, guess what? I hate you too.

I'm not finishing this just yet, you know why? Because normal folk need to understand. Understand how _thunderous_ my mind is right now, as I write. They're arguing again. Gunshots are exploding, just activating more and _more _arguments.

Sorry, I'm getting distracted again.

As of today, Doctor Sinner _still_ won't stop talking about my mental problems, questioning how they have affected me and such, throughout my life.

Although these sessions have been going on for a three months now, she is still constantly beating on this question: What is the method to my insanity?

I can't really answer that question. I don't even _know_ the answer.

Right now, I'm in my cell alone, at my desk, with a pen and my notepad at one in the morning. My hair is tingling up on an end every inch of me, my leg trembling petulantly underneath the desk. My hair, which has finally grown beyond shoulder-length, is glued to my face, baked in sweat. The full moon I can see peeping through the bars of my window even seems like it's threatening me. I can't sleep. I'm shaking. If I was outside right now, my distorted breath would be visible. My free hand is clenched on the desk, and occasionally, writing these weakening moments in my past have made that fist pound out of unexpected fury. The frown on my face appears to be permanent.

Seems to me, that a defining event of madness is happening around me, once again.

I wish it would stop. I don't _want _to feel.

So, instead of pointlessly sleeping, I'm going to take Doctor Sinner's advice, like a good patient, and write about my apparent 'emotions' creatively. I'll hopefully impress Doctor Sinner with my apparent 'impressive' intelligence, and show that I can make 'progress' on my 'well-being'. Not that I want to, of course.

But I can never be normal, can I?

Let's think of a more creative way to write about my feelings right now, hmm? Let's combine the past _and_ present to show it.

Doctor Sinner said I'm a highly creative girl, so I should try and dig up my ancient ability and use it again, don't you think?

Creativeness was always my strong point at school, as I was less academically intelligent than the rest.

Okay.

Now, I'm guessing, in most of society's mind, I'm a villainous, murderous freak who deserves _zero_ sympathy, like I'm the female embodiment of the devil. Hmm? They all think I deserve to rot in Hell's deepest, loneliest pit of flicking fire.

Doctor Sinner said her hair ribbons represent each of the seven deadly sins.

Let me see, from what I can remember from religious class in middle school, the seven deadly sins are...well...doesn't their name tell you everything?

If I have, remorselessly, and with complete coldness in my blood, committed _all seven_ in my life, _continuously_, and they have contributed to my madness and monstrosity I'm showing the City, then I can officially say, I really _am _an unfeeling, violent anarchist, like my father intended me to be, since I was a little girl. Only then I can say I _am _what the City believes I am. Then I really am going to Hell, if it exists, that is.

It wouldn't matter, because my whole family would be in Hell, too.

Doctor Sinner would be _so_ impressed with this.

For those who don't know what each of the sins are, the seven deadly sins are as follows:

Envy, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Pride, Sloth and Wrath.

Let's start with my favourite one, shall we, lovely judgemental people?

Envy.

For you dim-witted folk out there, envy is when an individual lacks another's superior qualities or achievements and hungrily craves with every inch of them that it was switched, and that they have the superiority of _everything_ over the other person, but it's highly unlikely they'll ever get it.

Oh, I remember the envious days of my maddened childhood. The days where I would curse under my breath, pronouncing every syllable of my envy, on the tip of my venomous, snakelike tongue. Every jealous phrase and vulgar curse I wanted to say, I would announce simply through my beady eyes, and oh how a person would know it.

You may not think, that back in the day, I wished to have the perfect blonde curls of Kayley Lyons, or the singing voice of a lark like Frankie, or the skilful break dancing moves of Chris, or the scientific genius mind of Jason, or even just the confidence to show my artistic brilliance in class. Sometimes I felt like just being reasonably talented at art wasn't enough.

I stared out of the window in elementary school, completely absorbed in my own imagination, wondering what it would be like to have a mother and father that didn't hit each other, a father who wasn't schizophrenic, a mother who didn't drink her life away and not give a second glance, or to even have a sibling to share everything with.

Imagine what it would have been like if my life _was _that way.

Don't get me wrong, I've always had the deluded ignorance to show off my physical appearance and outrageous clothing style back when I was younger, and, as cliché as this sounds, I was comfortable with my own gothic style.

However, it would have been so much better if people actually _appreciated _it.

And you wonder why I _despise_ this hypercritical world? Not _one_ person, outside the handful of people I liked and who didn't care about how I was, _didn't_ stare as I walked down the corridor at school. I swear, every single day I heard people sniggering at the sight of my so-called 'trashy' black leather clothes, my face caked in dark makeup, my platinum blonde hair, and my blackened lips.

I couldn't be _less _envious of other people's physical appearances, because I don't wish to have the catwalk looks of any other pretty woman. I _know _I am decent looking, even_ now_, when halfway up my arms are smeared in another's blood. It's all because I look like my beautiful mother, complete with my father's shadowy brown eyes.

However, there _is _a memory that can explain what dangerous envy that I _do_ have better.

I must have been only seven and a half, not long diagnosed as a 'child with schizophrenic tendencies'. We were in English class in elementary school. Don't ask me to remember what grade I was in. We had been assigned work to write a diary entry from the perspective of a Jewish girl or boy in World War II. Of course, this was an ideal task for me.

But unfortunately for me, I was forced to sit by Kayley, Frankie and Jasmine, as we had a substitute teacher, and she moved us around the class.

I was trying with all my mind's strength to focus on the task. It's hard enough having attention deficits, but when a certain Bitch Lyons is yapping right down your ear, her voice cutting upon my eardrums, almost making them rot away with how loud she was, it's so much _fucking _harder.

"My great-grandpa was a soldier in the war," she declared, to what seemed to be the whole class. "And when he came back from the war, my grandma was born, and he gave her this broach that was _so _pretty, and it was from his uniform!"

"Wow!" Frankie giggled.

"Did your grandma ever show it to you?" Jasmine asked her.

"Yeah!" she squealed. "She even said that when she dies, _she'll _give it to me, and then _I _can give it to my own baby!"

Well, she won't ever be able to do that now, will she?

"Where is it now?" Frankie said.

"My mommy keeps it safe," Kayley went on. "She's got this _huge _wardrobe and she my daddy keep _everything _in there! You know, next week we're getting a _new _kitchen fitted and it's going to look _so _posh and everything. It's going to be _so _big I can dance in there, like at the ball!"

"You'll be like Cinderella!" Frankie laughed.

"I wish _I _could have a big kitchen!" Jasmine moaned. "Me and _my _mommy only have a little one!"

"Well, _my _mommy can afford a big one!" Kayley taunted, rudely. "Maybe someday, you can come and see it, if you're _lucky_."

By now, I was glaring at the blonde next to me. I thought about our small flat, and _our _kitchen, that consisted of a table, a sink, a microwave and a broken oven, with a two cupboards, where the doors of them were hanging off the hinges.

Kayley continued showing off, ranting about her mom's new kitchen. She then proceeded to talk about the outlay of her huge house, with Frankie and Jasmine seeming to be the only girls who looked slightly interested, nodding and beaming at Kayley's speech.

My envy of Kayley's wealth was building rapidly. I scribbled out my incorrectly spelled last word on my page, viciously, before shooting my head to Kayley on my right.

"Nobody cares, you know," I muttered.

Kayley stared at me, intolerantly, and for some reason the whole room went silent upon hearing my voice. It's because they knew as soon as I spoke up, things got interesting. Silence was what I liked, so I took this to my advantage, and pretended to continue with my imaginative diary entry.

"Shut up, _Napier_," Kayley scoffed. Frankie and Jasmine started to snigger.

"No," I hissed, not looking at her.

"Nobody cares what _you _have to say, you weirdo," Kayley sneered.

"Well, nobody _cares _if your mommy has the biggest kitchen since God created Earth!" I exclaimed. "Not _all _of us can have that, you know."

I may have been academically weak, but when it came to an argument, I always had the upper hand. I was a pretty brutal seven year old girl.

"Well _I _can!" Kayley jeered.

"Shut up," I mumbled. "You're getting on my nerves."

"Girls, what's going on over there?" the teacher finally asked, rising from her desk.

"_Shaylee's _just _jealous_ because _she _wants to have what _I _have and she _can't_ have it because she's a weirdo!" Kayley declared.

Some of the classmates started to chuckle. I exhaled a deep breath, my writing stopping in its tracks.

"Now, now, Miss Lyons," the teacher calmly said. "That's no way to speak about your friend."

"She's not my _friend_!" we both stated, angrily.

"Alright, girls, now, if I hear another word, I'll have to spilt you up," the teacher warned.

"Good," I murmured.

"Miss, she's being rude about me!" Kayley laughed. "She's telling me to shut up just because she's jealous."

"No, I'm _not_!" I lied, loudly, through gritted teeth.

"Okay, young lady," the teacher's firmer voice made everybody silent. "What's your name?"

"Shaylee," I replied, petulantly.

"Shaylee who?" the teacher asked.

"Shaylee Napier," I answered, now folding my arms, not wanting to look at her.

"There's no shouting allowed in this class, okay, Miss Napier?" she said.

"But _she's _been talking loudly for ages, and you blame _me_?!" I protested, furiously. "It's not _my _fault, Miss."

"Yeah, it's not _her _fault she's poor," I heard Kayley whisper to Frankie and Jasmine.

From hearing that statement, a bolt of fire shot through my body and I jumped to my feet. Kayley squealed as I grabbed her hair and began to yank on it as hard as I could, attempting to crash her face onto the table with it.

"I hate you! I hate you!" I yelled, countless times, as my attack continued to the roaring crowd of little boys in the classroom.

The substitute teacher was incredibly weak. It took her numerous attempts to remove me from Kayley. When she finally did, she pushed me towards the door.

"Get out, right now!" she ordered.

"I'm _going_!" I shouted.

As I stormed out of the room, I heard Kayley playing the sympathy card again, as she whimpered loudly.

Soon, the teacher came out to join me outside the door, slamming it behind her as she did. I raised my eyebrow at her, as she kneeled down to my level. My arms were folded, and though I seemed calmer to her, the rage was still fizzling inside, refusing to leave.

Back then, this was just normal anger outbursts. I couldn't feel my head pounding, nor could I hear things that drove me mad. It's a shame really. In that situation, I could have really done with support from the demons.

I am appreciative of my mind, _sometimes_, you know.

"Miss Napier, how _dare _you attack another classmate," she snapped.

"It was her fault, but _I _always get the blame," I complained.

"It may well have been, but _you _were the one who thought it was okay to hit her."

"She was saying I was a weirdo!"

"I know, and I have had a word with her."

"How come _I _always get into trouble and _she _don't? I hate her."

"Hate is a very strong word, Miss Napier."

"I _know_."

"Why did you get angry?"

"She made fun of the fact I'm _poorer _than her. I told her to shut up about how rich she is because it made me mad."

"Okay, but there was no need to react like that, now was there?"

"I can't help it. She just made me mad."

"Maybe you need to see the principal."

"_No_!" I cried.

"Miss Napier, you surely can't react like this–"

"Miss, I don't _care _if she's rich!" I lied. "Tell her to shut up."

"If I separate you two, will you get back to work calmly, like a good girl?"

"That's what I _wanted_, right?"

"Mind your attitude, young lady. Being impolite gets you nowhere."

"Maybe you should tell _Kayley_ that."

"But after the lesson, I will take you to the principal."

"Whatever."

I _told _you I was blamed for everything back in elementary school. I didn't have Chase to run to then, so I could only run to dad and tell him how hard I tried in beating her up.

When I told dad about it that evening, the first thing he did was laugh.

"Oh wow, Shay, that taught her nasty little self, didn't it?" he chortled.

"It did, but I was in _so _much trouble," I said, not being able to hold back my sniggers.

"Ah, come here you little rascal," Dad chuckled, wrapping his large arm around my shoulder. "Don't worry, darling. I don't blame you for getting angry. She just takes what she has for granted, that's all. She's selfish. Unfortunately, a lot of people in this world are."

"She thought I was _jealous _of her!" I giggled.

"What's there to be jealous of?" Dad laughed with me. "Why would you want the life _she _has? It's overrated. All you need is me, and your art, isn't it, sweetie?"

"Yep," I squealed, snuggling up to my smiling father. "Thank you, daddy."

"Any time, princess," he whispered, beginning to stroke my hair.

Sometimes I miss those days.

But in terms of envy, I suppose I've only felt envious of other people's superior _lives_, compared to my troubled life. Especially when they completely threw it in my face and boast about it, just like when Kayley did that day.

Why do you think I feel so much pleasurable adrenaline when I burn down other people's large properties and destroy their lives by sticking a blade up their ribs? It only makes them see reality. The reality is, that some people don't have anything, or very little, to live off of, and they end up dying. Seeing someone's house burn down, or seeing a healthy human being's flesh be teared completely off their clean skin, it's almost like I'm bringing them down to _my _world.

It's a cruel world. The only way to make people see the light is to _be _cruel.

All my life I wished to reside in a house, with a stunning flowery garden, a picketed fence, and a decent amount of space to live happily.

Even Chase's mundane house made me envy his accommodation when I lived there. Living there felt like I was living in Heaven, compared to where I'd previously lived.

Doctor Sinner asked me if my 'antisocial behaviour' was effected by poor housing environment as a child. I'd be lying if I said it didn't, and I _don't _lie. I tell it how it is, you should know that by now.

So, am I an envious person? Without a doubt. If I _wasn't_ envious of the world, do you think I would still hate it and want it witness nothing but pain with it's own eyes? I'll let you answer that one.

Everyone has felt envy in their lives. I bet even you have. I bet you've craved about having someone's greater achievements for yourself.

Even a person like Doctor Sinner is filled with envy. She wants to be Head Psychiatrist, and I can tell from the way she talks about Doctor Arkham, she's utterly jealous of his job. That's where we're a little alike, wanting to do anything to get what we want.

I think the next sin may just be a _little _more uplifting.

Gluttony.

This sin is slightly more…fun. Well, just writing the word 'gluttony', I've smiled for the first time since I've begun writing in my trembling state, at this ridiculous hour.

Gluttony is over-indulgence and over-consumption of food and drink.

I'm not really sure what to say about this one, especially tying it in with what I'm feeling right now, as I only really seem to recall enjoyable memories with food. Well, I suspect _every_ human being does, even the insane ones.

Despite this, I'm still quivering violently through my whole body as I write.

My whole body has been shaking fiercely for days, but right now, it's almost embarrassing how much I am shuddering in this seat. The words on this page are becoming more jumbled and messy by the second.

I'm getting off track again.

Maybe I need to at least try and calm myself down with _some _decent memories, even though Doctor Sinner told me my diagnoses cause me to be _so_ detached from this world's reality, that it's difficult to realise the innocence in everything.

That's not true, because the reality is, _nothing _is innocent.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be showing my creativity, aren't I?

After rummaging through the back of my mind to remember a ton of memories involving stuffing my stomach with food, I think I have the perfect one.

It was my thirteenth birthday, and after school, dad had taken me out into the centre of Gotham Town. He waltzed me down the town centre's street to a tiny Italian restaurant, right on the corner of the walkway, called The Greasy Pizza. It was late afternoon, so obviously the place was clambered with people, but luckily, there was a table for two right in the corner, by the window. I distinctively remember wearing a silky blouse that day, in large letters reading 'I'm Not Bothered', with a winking bat underneath.

"Here we are, Shay," Dad said, as we took our seats. "The Greasy Pizza."

"Doesn't look very posh," I said, glancing around the shabby restaurant.

"It isn't!" Dad chortled. "You really expect there to be a posh Italian restaurant in _Gotham Town_?"

"I guess not," I laughed.

"Exactly."

We went through the usual business of ordering our drinks, and beginning a conversation about school.

The large pizzas being served to other tables turned my eyes into magnets, their perfectly cooked dough, cheese and toppings catching my keen eye.

"That looks _so _good," I breathed, seeing a waiter place a large seafood-topped pizza on the table next to us.

"That's why I bought you here," Dad said. "I know you love Italian, and this is the best one by far. Brilliant pizzas here, baby."

"I'm already excited," I beamed.

"You ate three pieces of cake before you came here," Dad chuckled. "Don't know how you're not the size of a rhino, Shay."

"Dad!" I cried.

"Relax, baby, I'm _joking_," he soothed.

"I'll never be fat," I told him.

"Nah, you're like your mother," Dad recalled. "Always eating, never putting on weight." At that moment, I took a large gulp of my drink. "You know something, Shay," Dad continued, pleasantly, "I proposed to your mother in this restaurant."

I almost spurted out my drink.

"You what?" I chuckled.

"Careful, Shay, don't choke now," Dad laughed, handing me a serviette.

"I'm fine," I giggled, rolling my eyes at him and poking my tongue out, childishly. I dabbed the Coca-Cola that had dripped onto my jeggings, before looking up at the beaming man with twinkling dark orbs. "You proposed to mom here?" I asked again.

"That's right," Dad sighed. "You were eight months old. I remember it. You were giggling your little face off in a high chair sat right over there." He darted his large finger to the other side of the restaurant, pointing out an unclear table. "Even as a baby you were curious about _everything_. I remember you nearly poking your eye out with a fork…"

"Wait, _I _was here when you proposed to mom?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, we couldn't leave you back at the flat on your _own_, could we?" Dad said, gently. "I didn't trust _anyone _to babysit my little monkey, so we _had _to bring you with us. It just made the whole thing much more romantic, for me, anyway. Your mother had pepperoni, I had ham and pineapple, just like we had done on our first date."

"You said that you two didn't go out a lot before I was born," I said.

"That's true, but _obviously _I wanted to take her _somewhere_ to ask her out when we first met, didn't I?" Dad chuckled, jiggling his eyebrows. "I'm not _that _boring, Shay!"

"I didn't say you were!" I laughed.

"But yeah, those were the days," Dad recalled, a wistful look shading his face. "I wanted to propose, in the place we had our first date. She knew it, as well."

"How come you never got married?" I questioned.

"We couldn't _afford _to get married, Shaylee," Dad answered, miserably. "I had no job by then, _she _was…not working."

"Then why ask?"

"Because…a little part of me thought maybe one day I _could_ make her my little wife, and we'd be a little family. I wanted her to be that wife who would look after me, help me through my…illness. Tell me not to worry. To make me smile."

"But…she _did_."

"Oh, she did…until…you know."

"She started drinking."

"Hmm."

His lidded eyes collapsed down to his lap. He did the usual uncomfortable movement of pushing his bushy hair back through his large hand, and sighing, sadly, several times.

"Dad?" I piped up, feeling his pain, so I took his hand.

"Yes, sweetie?" he whispered, squeezing my hand, gratefully.

"Why…why did she start?" I asked, bravely. "You've never told me why properly. Why _did _she start drinking when I was…I was, uh…"

"Three and a half."

"Yeah."

"It's…it's complicated, Shay, and don't ask me to explain. I'll be here all night, and besides, isn't this supposed to be a _happy_ day? Why would we wanna think about _her_? Today…" He then lifted his pint of beer, cheerfully. "Today is _special_, where we don't need to think about the past, only the fact that, my little girl, is thirteen years old." He shook his head. "_Where _has that time gone?"

"I don't even know," I chuckled.

We clattered our drinks together and simultaneously took a sip from the rim of our drinks.

"I just _knew_ we had to come _here_ for lunch today," Dad said, placing his drink back down on the table. "The place means a lot to me, the pizza is to _die_ for, and, uh…of course I knew you'd love it."

"How much can I have, dad?"

"As much as you want, princess."

"God, that makes me sound _so _spoiled," I snorted.

"You can be, just for today," Dad said. "Because it's not every day you're a teenager and that. Plus, I _always _spoil you when it comes to food."

"If I'm not careful, I _will_ be fat one day," I laughed.

"No chance," Dad scoffed. "Like I said, you're the build of your mother, you skinny little shrimp."

We spent minutes cackling the same, boisterous laugh, until a waitress finally came over to us, with her little notepad.

"Enjoying yourselves there?" she chuckled, amusingly.

"My daughter is a little joker," Dad snickered. "Always making me laugh, aren't ya?"

"Actually, it's the other way round," I told the waitress.

The waitress beamed as she noticed my bright yellow birthday badge, with a large '13' planted on it, labelled onto my dress.

"Oh, happy birthday," she said. "Teenager, are we?"

"Unbelievably," Dad cut in. "And she's a very hungry little girl. Give us the eighteen inch pepperoni, garlic bread with cheese, and a side order of fries. Large. Sound good, sweetheart?"

"Sounds amazing," I grinned, nodding eagerly.

"That's an awful lot," the waitress said, noting down our order. "You sure you can manage?"

"Of course," I giggled.

"She eats like a hippo," Dad mocked, scrunching his nose at me, playfully.

"Dad!" I squealed.

Despite this, I stuffed down every crumb of what we ordered. Dad mostly ate the fries, but allowed me to be gluttonous and gulp down every inch of what we ate.

I'll never forget that day.

You may be thinking, why didn't I mention this event before? Well, I already summed up my happiness at this age. The only time my life was perfect, until Kayley's attention-seeking happened that day. Wouldn't Doctor Sinner want to know that? Not all people like me have had a lousy life _completely. _Just mostly.

Back to the point in hand, that event is a perfect example of my gluttony. Eating _way _more than I should have.

I did always love to order a pizza myself when I was alone in the flat, and taste the stringy cheese at the tip of my tongue, before ripping the slice apart with my sharp snappers. Most of my happies memories in that old scruffy flat of ours, was nibbling away on a twelve inch pizza until my hands were fried in its grease, creating a brand new piece of art, laying on my stomach, in front of the flashing images of GCN on the television.

Back in those days, I adored to eat endlessly, because as a child, I was _always _starving. Particularly as a young child. I remember being knee-high, broadening my tiny fingers to reach the fruit bowl in the kitchen, standing on the very tip of my toes in order to grab an apple.

Coming back from kindergarten every day, I would trot into the kitchen, where mom would usually be washing or performing some kind of household chore. Ace was snoring in his basket, but always leaped from his basket and greeted me, excitedly, whenever I entered the kitchen.

"Mommy?" I would squeak, tugging on my mom's skirt, with my head leaning back to look at her great height.

Mom would manage a little smile back down at me.

"What is it, darling?" she would sigh.

"I'm hungry," I would moan.

"You're always hungry, you are," Mom would chuckle.

"But I _am_," I would whine, tugging more wildly on her skirt.

"I know, I know, sweetie. I'll make some dinner after I've finished washing," would be mom's average excuse. Sometimes she would add something like, "And after mommy's had a drink, because she's thirsty today."

"Okay," I would groan, unamused.

I grew more and more unamused as the years went by, as I begin to understand what this 'drink' was.

Mom would create fantastic meals when she was around, but as the alcohol tugged upon her needs more and more, she would too tipsy to remember to cook for me _or _dad. That's why I ate like a starving beast after she died, as dad made sure I was fed every day, even if it was just three bowls of cereal for each meal. Dad's cooking skills were limited, but I really didn't seem to mind, as long as I ate _something_.

Would God forgive my gluttonous ways over the years, if he witnessed the _truth _behind them?

Sadly, since the depression came and bit away at my life, the enthusiastic eater has vanished away. The food here at Arkham tastes like rubber, but I don't dare leave that cafeteria without half the meal coated around my lips.

So, am I gluttonous? Well, can you blame me?

It makes my blood boil that I can't go back to the times where I could consume food and drink happily, unlike now, where I take a bite out of anything, and feel no taste, like I used to.

Depression ruins everything.

Speaking of which, that ties in nicely will the next sin.

Greed.

We all know what greed is, wanting badly another's possession to keep and use extensively for oneself, but I'm not sure if _everybody_ has experienced _massively_ sinful greed.

Ever since depression has washed through my system, due to that awful day two and a half years ago, the only _positive_ thing it's done, is make me wiser about the world around me. Of course, I've been aware and always took notice of the secretly darkened and self-righteous ways of the citizens, but it wasn't until I was experiencing my mind whirling into a _complete_ psychotic frenzy did I _really _see every aspect of it, and a lot of what I've scowled at in the streets has been people's greed.

Take the mob, for example. Their greed is for money and power in Gotham. Their so greedy for it they'll go to hazardous lengths to get it, and it's _not _the fact they're more a less a rich gang of criminals, they'll work with _anyone _and do _anything_ for their money. Remember when they wanted to have me killed so they could collect their profit from Gordon?

Now that The Joker and I are locked away inside this prison, they won't have to worry about us interfering with their money corrupted minds.

Now, think about it. Am _I _greedy? Does a girl like me desire _so_ much and go to extreme lengths to get it and when I do, overuse it for my own intentions? I can't remember a time when I did that. Yes, yes, I did steal all the time when I was younger, but that wasn't out of selfish greed, that was only so my dad and I could survive. Is _that _such a crime?

Myself, and my father, are only greedy in _one_ way and one way only. What he craves for, is unbridled chaos. He ran out into Gotham's streets to get it, found it in Gotham's justice system, and used it extensively, more and more and more until he saw before him, exactly what he wanted. He wanted to see everything around him suffer. Yes, you probably already know that, but all I'm doing is reminding you, reader, that in the eyes of a 'normal' person, it is complete monstrosity, but in _my _eyes, it's completely understandable. Whether it's acceptable is another matter, but _my _opinion is all that matters to me, and _my _opinion is that it _is _acceptable.

It's been hard not being able to witness this for three months, but as you know, that doesn't mean the chaos is ending. Just like The Joker said, chaos can come without action, too. Doctor Sinner can certainly see the chaos is still creeping out of my speech, even though I'm being 'treated'. She always asks me what kind of achievement I get from chaos.

The answer is, seeing Gotham in turmoil, it just makes me happy. You know? Is _such _a crime for me to be happy for once?

Ever since the clown makeup has been soaked into my face's skin, I've been craving chaos like a sinister lioness awaiting its prey to leap from the bushes. For a woman like me, it's just pleasurable. _Everyone _would love to continue performing the thing that they love forever, right? I'm no different.

Even now, still trapped in the asylum, I have daily fights with the grown men when we're outside on the daily break. I even had one in the cafeteria with another woman. Harley and Ivy backed me up, but my 'fitting' punishment was no meals for the next day.

It's not my fault I get angry. It's also not my fault I just want to cause havoc. The ideology has just been fuelled into my brain, which is leaking with gallons of pain, hurt, manipulation and fury, therefore just filling up those things further.

People _would _say, I'm being too _greedy _with spreading chaos. I'm killing people _too much_. It's going _too far_.

That might be what _you _think.

What _you _think is laughable. What _I _think is all that matters to me. You may think I live on a different planet. I don't. I just see the world correctly, unlike you.

So am I greedy? Only with chaos, but I guess chaos is now what I'm about, ever since The Joker hammered me with his delicious theories.

So, yes. I _am _greedy. I want more of it, and I promise you, the escape is coming soon. Doctor Sinner even admitted I am a difficult patient.

The next sin is an interesting one.

Lust.

I won't go into details, you _know_ what lust is.

Years ago, I would have been utterly mortified to talk about the _full_ details my sex life on paper, but now, I can freely tell _anyone _about _anything_, unless it's a dangerous subject. Because I don't care.

Is lust _really _a sin?

Lust during a relationship with someone you 'love' isn't _sinful_, is it? Though I guess bible bashers would drone on about sex before marriage and if you were lustful towards someone you were not married to, then you'd get a one-way ticket to Hell. A _shortcut _ride to Hell if it was someone the opposite sex.

With Chase, I wouldn't take even an ounce of me to be prepared for a sexual encounter with us. You may laugh, but it's the truth. All he had to do was give me that predatory look, and a cheeky wink. He would always take things easily and whisper words such as, "Shaylee, you're blushing," to get me giggling uncontrollably, and be completely submissive to him.

That look, and his words, always made my ears prick up, like a dog's. He almost looked sinister when he was lustful. Those glistening green eyes of his were wide when they were invaded by lust. It affected me massively, ever since that night on my fifteenth birthday we did it for the first time.

I won't lie, it's _still_ one of the best nights I've ever had, and after that, the lust became thicker and thicker in our relationship, until it was almost the superior activity we did.

It would be like I wasn't myself when I was experiencing lust with the love of my life. I transformed into a romantic, elegant lover, rather than the jab in Chase's heart. Pinning my eyes into his while he showed me how much he cared was the most passionate experience of my life. I'm not lying on that one.

Making love with the only man you've ever truly loved, is in my mind, the equivalent of floating on a pink river filled with soft bubbles, with the moon is beaming down on you, forcing your smile to become just as large as his.

Chase and I became so consumed in our lust, almost every day when we were together, that lust became passion, and in that whirlwind of hunger for one another, nothing else mattered in that moment.

Isn't that how it's _supposed _to be?

You may think I don't know what love is because I'm only seventeen. You may think that I will never know what love is because of the way I am. You may think I can only feel darkness.

I know I've already explained this, but I'll say it again for the brainless and easily forgettable. This ridiculous thing called 'love', _is _the reason behind the way I am. The reason I am a just a bit of a lunatic, but lunacy isn't considered sinful, is it?

But love is _not _the same thing as lust. In fact, they are the polar opposites.

Things changed after Chase and I were torn apart from one another.

My lust died with the relationship. I didn't feel anything of the sort when I consented myself to other men after Chase got rid of my abusive self.

Obviously there was a little lust left in my demented soul if I wanted to give myself to a man, but as it happened, I felt nothing. I only felt like I was doing a duty, doing task.

It almost made me vomit up tears with how strange it felt, that is was not the man I adored making love to me.

I only slept with men to get what I wanted, because as you know, I don't take kindly when nothing goes my way.

Sometimes, in the back of my abnormal mind, I still hear Chase saying, "I love you, Shaylee."

I think that's all I need, for now.

So am I lustful? I have been. Well, I did very nearly fuck Johnny Falino, planning to do it before I killed him cold blood, because my mind was in a spectacularly twisted mind-set at that moment.

Ivy and Harley have brought back the flirtatious part of me while being trapped beneath this roof, I suppose, especially seeing how successful lust had been for Ivy and manipulating her victims. I haven't, however, gone as far as fucked someone while in Arkham. In fact, I haven't done it since a demeaning little incident which I think you know of happened to me.

Lust comes out of _everyone _at one moment or another, though, wouldn't you agree? Personally, I don't even think lust _is _a sin.

So, that's four sins I've committed at some point so far.

The next sin, I believe, is Pride.

There's not much to say about this one, either. Once again, I only take Pride in one thing, which I frankly, do not wish to explain again.

You know…just _thinking _about it…just thinking about what I've showcased these past months, thinking about it inside my schizoid mind, it's making me write every single word faster and faster. I can barely understand what I'm writing right now, because my hand refuses to crunch to a halt. My mind has managed to conjure up a little circle of burning flames around my desk. It's clicking loudly, making my eardrums pound.

It's such a strange, yet powerful feeling. At any moment I could roar with rage, or laugh maniacally. I'm not even sure how I feel anymore, but as I continue to write this 'creative' structure of thoughts and feelings, like my psychiatrist has asked of me, it may flood back to me.

Taking pride in my 'antisocial' actions (as Doctor Sinner calls it), is hugely sinful in God's eyes, apparently, so I guess I can tick this one off as well.

Although, Pride is one of few sins I didn't really feel as a child.

I would look down upon my disorderly written work at school, frowning at my unintelligent answers.

"What's the matter, Shaylee?" the teacher would ask me.

"I'm confused," I would usually say.

"What are you confused about this time, Shaylee?" I would be asked.

"Everything." In a math class, I would typically add, "Why does there have to be so many numbers? Why can't there just be one to ten?"

"I don't know, but without numbers, the world would be very different," the teacher's impatient response would be.

"How would it?" I ask.

"Well, if the numbers only went up to ten, how would we count all the people in the world?"

"In tens."

Then the teacher would sigh, kneeling down at my desk, becoming used to my frustrating nature.

"Shaylee, you're cleverer than you think," my teacher, Miss Woodville told me one time.

"I'm not _that _clever," I replied, giving her a look of intolerance.

"You are a very bright girl," she said, softly. "You just don't have the confidence."

"Only in my drawings, Miss Woodville," I sighed. "My daddy says they're cool."

"He's right, and your artistic skills _are_ fantastic, Shaylee, but you should take more pride in your math skills, English skills, scientific skills, as well, because you have it in you. I know it."

"But I'm _good _at drawing, Miss Woodville, not anything else," I complained, miserably. "How come everybody else understands it and I don't?"

"Not _everyone _understands _everything _straight away, Shaylee. One day you'll see your talent at when creating _other_ things and you'll learn to be proud of what you can show everyone. Trust me."

And unbelievably, my teacher couldn't have been more right.

My hand is killing me right now, but it's okay. This pain is nothing compared to what I've felt in the past, and by that I mean physically.

Only two more to go.

This creativeness is getting tiring. Maybe Doctor Sinner wasn't right about me after all.

The next of the seven deadly sins is Sloth.

This one means complete laziness, and not just you're stereotypical laziness, for example, faking one's illness so they can't go to work because that day you don't feel up to it, but sloth means _abominable_ laziness. _So_ lazy, in fact, it's the death of someone. They don't do _anything _except sleep and lie on their backs watching others do their work for them.

Most people in Gotham seem to possess sloth. I mean, when I've seen people running away from me and the harmful gun in my grasp, they scamper away, at an insultingly slow pace. It almost seems to me like they have no will to run for their lives. Of course, I'm lying, but that's what I _see_. Maybe it's because I'm too quick on my feet, and I end their lives so vastly, I feel like I'm the only quick creature on Earth. Plus, there's nothing of me to carry. I'm a skinny little shrimp, like my mother.

I always have been some sort of lanky shrimp, but I've always had my father's body strength.

I wouldn't consider myself to be a lazy person. Would you? Not _now_, at least. I get up every single sunrise and go through the same boring process of talking to my delusional psychiatrist, sketching and writing my life away. It's tedious, but I have no choice. I can't do anything until we escape very soon, and when I do, Gotham will know it.

Now I'm taking a little break from running around rampant in the streets with the demons guiding my every move, I would _love _to sleep all day, to relax my mind before I need to trigger it again.

As a little child, I was only lazy on a day with little to no events taking place, that meaning nearly every weekend. During mom's reign of the flat, she was the bad influence of laziness on me, because of her alcohol consuming. Despite this, she argued with my dad every single day about laziness, even one time, blaming him for my lack of exercise on a weekend.

I wasn't a dumb kid. I knew _exactly_ how to annoy my mother.

This ties in wonderfully with my most poignant memory of sloth, which also ties into my thoughts and feelings right _now_.

Maybe this idea is ingenious after all. Maybe I _am _as intelligent as The Joker.

It was a late Sunday morning. The sun was peeking from my bland window. It must have only been a month after my ninth birthday, and I had zero intentions of doing anything that day.

My eyes were barely peeping open when I heard my bedroom door creak open.

"Shay?" I heard mom's slurred voice come through my door. I turned my face away from her slinging figure in the doorway and frowned when I heard the falsehood in her voice. I was laying on my stomach, one of my legs poking out of the sheet. I groaned tiredly, hoping mom would make haste from my door upon hearing my 'tiredness'. "Shay_lee_?" she called again, this time sounding more intoxicated than I thought.

"What?" I mumbled.

"Have you thought at all about getting up this morning, then?" she garbled.

"No," I grunted.

"Shaylee, come on, get up," Mom said, attempting to sound strict. "Before I drag you out."

"Make me," I retorted.

Mom groaned. I felt the mattress of the bed droop suddenly, then I felt mom's hand stroking my hair.

"Look, sweetie," she whispered. "I _know_…you're angry at the fact I went out last night."

"You're still _drunk_," I snapped.

"But…I'm here now, right?" Mom said, hopeful. I squirmed around to lie on my back, in order to glare at her. Her hand gently pushed back my hair in front of my eyes again, and it didn't move, as she kept her hand placed on my head. She sighed, giving me an almost guilty look. "I'm not drunk," she said. "Just tired."

"You promised you wouldn't go out," I sneered, angrily.

"I know, but…" she began.

"No, you _promised_, and anyway, mom, drinking is _so _boring," I whined.

"You'll understand when you're older," she said.

"Understand the consequences?" I scolded.

"Shaylee, come _on_," Mom groaned, now nudging my shoulder. "Get out of bed. You can't lie in bed all day."

"_You _do it."

"That's because I…well, I'm…"

"Because you're a grown-up?"

"_No_…because…"

"Dad says it's because you drink all the time. It makes you sleepy."

"Don't listen to what your father says about me."

"Why not? At least he tells me the truth."

"Shaylee…" she sighed. "Come on. Get _up_."

"_No_."

"Look, sweetheart, I know you're angry at me, but you can't just lie in bed like this every Sunday morning. It's not good for you."

"Drinking isn't good for you either."

"Honestly, Shaylee, I'm your mother. Don't answer me back like that."

"I can do what I want."

Mom rose to her feet.

"If you're not up in ten minutes then I am seriously dragging you out by myself," she warned, starting to leave the room.

"Fine, but I'm not moving!" I cried.

Mom left the room, leaving the door wide open as she left. I continued to stare out of the doorway, as my bedroom was directly opposite the kitchen, which, of course, is exactly where mom headed for next. As the kitchen door was wide open too, I saw mom trail around in there, before she tossed herself out of sight, and then back in the doorway's view. When I next saw her, she was sitting down, with her first can of the day, gripped tightly in her hand. The look on her face was shameless. It even looked like she smiled as she took her first swig.

I shook my head, the frown on my face refusing to leave. I leaped from my bed and slammed the door as loud as I could, hoping it would cause mom to spill all of the substance on the floor in surprise.

As I stormed back to my bed, I thrusted a hard kick into the wall with a loud grunt, before hiding underneath my covers and allowing myself to sob.

Mom didn't come in ten minutes later to drag me out of bed. In fact, that day, I didn't even get dressed, or washed, or _anything_. I stayed hidden in my room all day. Just to annoy mom, I barely stayed away from my bed.

Now do you understand why I'm remorseless against mothers I come across now? My own mother scarred me for life gulping down that stuff, when all I wanted was for her to be there for me. She was occasionally, when she was sober (which was unlikely), but not like my dad, who was always there for me. He still is now.

Depressing, isn't it, when you realise the tormented state I'm in from just reading this? If you _are _reading this.

I swear, I'm not that crazy. I may be a little…._strange_…but I'm not _that _crazy. Someone my age can't be labelled 'crazy' this early, can they?

Maybe it _is _possible, but in my view, only the madness _around_ you creates madness _inside _you. Therefore, _everyone _is crazy. Right? Even you, reading this, is crazy. You don't know it yet, but you are.

It seems to me my anger disallows me to see the real world, but my 'insanity' _does _show the real world.

I'm too much like my father, but, I don't mind. I'd rather be like him than my alcoholic mother Diana, and drink myself to death.

I'd rather die laughing than die drinking. Wouldn't you?

There's only one sin left, but I feel like it's the best one out of all of them. It sums up everything for me. That's why I have left it until last.

Wrath.

Wrath means anger.

If I talk about my endless memories of wrath, I will be here for a thousand years. You know that.

Doctor Sinner likes to hear about my early memories, doesn't she?

I remember her asking me about my early anger 'problems', in one of the first therapy sessions.

"Do you remember the first time you were angry?" she had asked.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that alright," I replied, truthfully, sighing heavily.

"May I ask you what happened?"

"Yes."

"O-Okay..." She stuttered, taken aback at my blunt answer. "Well? Jane, what happened?"

Her voice became sharper again, so my lips spread out to a wider grin.

"Must I?" I said, blankly, purposely making her wait some more.

"Jane, this is important for–" she started.

"Yes, yes, I know," I muttered. "Important you know so you can succeed." Her fake smile vanished slightly. That uncomfortable look came about her face again. I giggled, sinisterly. "Well, uh…I can't really remember what I _actually_ did," I began, trying to envision the memory as best I could. "I must have only been around three or four. I don't recall being violent...only...I _was_ crying. I was crying a _lot_. Panting, shaking, you name it. All of it. I remember my father having to...restrain me...from something...but I remember saying to him...something like, 'Why is mommy crying, daddy?' He said, 'Because she's hurt.' I said, 'Did _I_ hurt her?' He said, 'No, no sweetheart...you didn't. She's just angry, that's all.' Then I asked him is that what _I_ was feeling. He said yes. I told him I didn't mean to shout. I can't remember why I shouted, though. He said, 'I know, darling. It's okay. It happens. Don't you worry. Mommy _and _daddy get angry _all _the time, trust me.' I remember being so..._upset_...that I had to snuggle up to my mom and dad that night in their bed. I don't even remember what happened that made me hysterical."

"But you _were_ angry?"

"I remember being angry, and confused at the same time."

"At your mother?"

I paused.

"Possibly," I answered.

That story was completely honest. I never try to be _dishonest_ to Doctor Sinner, unless it's about the reasons behind my actions, because someone like her wouldn't understand that. She _must_ hear the disturbing truth from me, however, and I enjoy hearing hers, when she gives into telling me about her awful parents and dead husband.

I'm beginning to wonder if that psychiatrist experiences more wrath than me. Every session, I see it in every part of her she's fighting not to bash out her opinionated self at me. Whenever I have a fight with an inmate outside, she always snaps at me, like she's my mother or my teacher.

She wants to be Head Psychiatrist more than anything. I bet she'd even do anything to get rid of Doctor Arkham just so she could take his place. She even admitted she has a better chance now her husband has passed away. Apparently, her husband thought the doctors here at Arkham were underpaid.

Every story she told me about her husband always appeared to be negative. It made me highly curious every time I managed to make her talk about him.

There's definitely something strange about her, but I like it.

I tell The Joker about her strange ways and intriguing stories, and all he seems to say about it is, "Keep going," or, "She's got something to hide."

I'm trembling for so many different reasons right now, I don't even know where I'm up to.

I'd rather be outside, taking in the smoky Gotham air through my nostrils. I want to be showing the world _my _views. I want to try and make them understand, in the only way I know how. By blasting a bullet through a whimpering citizen's skull, or soaking a building in gasoline, and making a _real _fire, so it would tumble down with Gotham's hope. To show my superiority over the corrupt mob dealers, murder them one by one for what they tried to do to me. To get the once love of my life back and make him to the same. Instead of avenging his father and cousin's deaths on me, avenge it on the rest of the world. The world made James a criminal, the world caused Bradley to be opinionated freak. _Not _me!

As soon as we get out of here, I'm going to carry out my desperation. I'm _starving_, to see the rest of the mob be intoxicated with Scarecrow's fear gas and one by one be too scared to stand up to this 'little girl' anymore. I wonder if their still after me to get money. They maybe after me now I killed Johnny Falino. I won't care. I'll kill them all, and Gotham won't be shocked to see it anymore.

I want to go out and commit _all _of the seven deadly sins in one night.

To see Gotham's sky being kissed by smoke evaporating from a raging fire would be a picture I could sit there and paint, joyfully. It would be a fire that would actually scorch your hand, unlike most of the ones I see, where dipping a hand into it causes no pain.

The fires only I can see, they are pixels that make my eyes burn and my head cheer wildly. I real fire almost melts my eyes away, and allows the demons to start a roaring celebration inside my head.

Unfortunately, right now, they are arguing with one another again.

Since we're still on the subject of wrath, I have the perfect story to go with this one.

It happened yesterday.

The session Doctor Sinner prepared for me took place after dinner hour. I was waiting for her in Psychiatric Rehabilitation Room #8, like I always was. Before me, I was busy sketching my new masterpiece. In huge bubble writing, I wrote the number 7758, so it covered the entire page. Inside the number, I outlined several smiley faces, dots and other cute patterns, before I shaded them in different blacks and greys. I was managing to create a decent drawing while handcuffed, which is a talent in itself.

Doctor Sinner joined me, in her usual neat and tidy stature. Her hair and seven ribbons perfectly in place, she carried her clipboard over to the seat opposite me and sat cautiously. She sighed, shakily.

I smiled up at her.

"Evening," I greeted, warmly. "You're just in time to see my masterpiece, Doctor Sinner."

"It seems this drawing therapy is treating you well," she said.

"It is," I agreed. "And something clever I picked up upon, today, Doctor Sinner, is that you can't spell 'an artist', without 'anarchist'. They sound the same!"

"I think you _can _spell anarchist without artist, Jane," Doctor Sinner replied, flatly.

"But it's still clever, _and _creative," I chuckled.

"Indeed," Doctor Sinner said.

"How's Doctor Arkham?" I asked, continuing to colour in my picture.

"He's…he's fine," the doctor said, nervously. "I've showed him your notes from these sessions, and he believes my treatments are working."

"Are they?" I said.

"He believes so."

"What about _you_?"

"I believe there is still a long way to go, but we _are _gradually making small progress."

"Hmm…and is, uh…is Doctor Arkham pleased with _you_?"

"He is."

"Who knows, Doctor Sinner, this could make your career if you treat me right. God knows what you'll become, huh?"

"I know, you've said that to me before."

"Well, I'm telling you again." The psychiatrist sighed again, as she began to write down a few words on a fresh page. I placed my pencil down and grinned, as she looked back up at me again. "Doctor Sinner, I'm _really _enjoying getting to know about you and you're life," I went on. "These past few months have been…it's been fun. For the most part. Sometimes I've been angry at you, but you get angry with me, too."

"I only get disappointed in you when you deliberately try and change to the subject," she said, sharply.

"I don't do it _deliberately_," I protested.

"But you know these sessions are about you, not me, yet you still like to know about me and my life."

"Is that such a crime?"

"It's not, but it's not the purpose."

"I'm only trying to make you see, Doctor Sinner, sometimes it's _uncomfortable _to talk about your own life. It is for _you_, and you're not even insane."

"Jane, I…I must talk to you about something before we begin the session," she informed me, shooting a serious look at me.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning forward.

"Myself….myself and Doctor Arkham, have been recently discussing your behaviour during your time at Arkham," she began, "and we do believe there is some suspicious behaviour going on."

"Suspicious behaviour?"

"You always seem to spend your time with The Joker at meal times, and during the fresh air hour."

"So?"

"We are aware you are a strong partnership, and we are beginning to believe you two are planning a conspiracy to escape from here."

"Do you have any proof?"

"Doctor Arkham informed me The Joker has not stopped talking about his crimes in Gotham, going into such gruesome details of his crimes and murders."

"Oh and that's _proof_?"

"If you are planning anything to escape or harm our staff, we will have to keep you separated during your time here."

"_What_?"

"We suspected the same thing with The Joker and Harley Quinn, which is why we have banned them from interacting with one another."

"You _can't_!"

"Why ever not?"

"Because…we're _not _planning anything! You have no proof we are!"

"You're also talking to Jonathan Crane, an exposed criminal and someone very likely to help you form an escape plan."

"That doesn't mean _anything_!"

"Jane, if you have _anything _to say on the matter, you must tell me now."

"Well, I don't. Even if I _did_, do you really think I'd tell you?"

"Security will keep an extra eye on you two, with everything you say to each other being reported to Doctor Arkham and Commissioner Gordon."

"_That _interfering bastard again? What's he got to do with anything?"

"If you two are planning anything, then he will be involved."

"Fuck's sake."

"Mind your language."

"No."

"Now, Jane. Why is it you're getting defensive about it when I ask you?"

"Why are _you _getting cocky with me, _Alyce_?"

"Doctor Sinner."

"All I'm doing is try and be friendly with you, and _what _do you threaten me with? Try and separate me from The Joker."

"This is all I've been informed, _I _don't know if it's true, do I?! Plus, do you _really _think it's safe to be around him?!"

"Woah, calm down," I laughed. "Thought you were supposed to be gentle and understanding, huh?"

She sighed, deeply again.

"Look, all I'm doing is finding out for Doctor Arkham," she said, more calmly.

"Seems to me you're _obsessed _with Doctor Arkham, aren't you?" I mocked, knowing that was the absolute truth.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted. "I'm his assistant. I am _good _at my job."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I must warn you, Jane, if we see any more suspicious behaviour from either of you, we will ban you from interacting while at Arkham."

"That's fine, but if you do, it won't be a wise move. The Joker and I are destined to work together. If we're not together, things could get ugly."

"Why?"

"It just _will_."

Doctor Sinner gave me a curious look, before finally going back to scribble down some notes.

"You understand, Jane?" she asked, impatiently.

"Yeah, I get it," I snapped.

"All I'm doing is my job," Doctor Sinner said. "I'm just doing my job, to treat _you_. If improving your well-being means doing this, then so be it."

"Yeah, if getting the role as Director of Arkham means doing this then _so be it_," I muttered, quietly, under my breath.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, irritably.

"Nothing," I mumbled.

"I'm sorry I upset you," she said, showing me best fake sympathetic look she could.

"No, you're not," I scoffed.

"Let's move on from that, Jane," she sighed.

"Yeah, let's," I said. "How's your parents, Doctor Sinner?"

"They're…they're okay – look, we should _really _move on, Jane," Doctor Sinner persisted.

"We _are_," I said, a look of pure disgust still pinning her down on her seat. "Doctor Sinner?"

"Yes?" she sighed.

"Do you…do you _really _think I'm planning to get out of here?" I snarled. "Do you?"

"It's not for me to answer," she replied.

"Oh, I think it is," I growled. "After all, you _are _my doctor. You wanna lose your patient?"

"Of course I don't!" she cried.

"Then tell me what you think…._then_…then I'll be, uh, I'll be more content knowing…you trust me or not."

"I don't believe you want to leave, since you seem to be getting more comfortable with these sessions and with me," Doctor Sinner said, uncertainly. She gulped, visibly. "You always say to me you like it here."

"I do, but I much prefer the outdoors," I giggled.

"Right," the doctor said, tucking herself under the table more. "Shall we begin now?"

"Go for it," I murmured. "But _don't _make me angry again."

"I think after what we're going to talk about today, you won't need to be." She smiled for the first time.

"Great," I grumbled.

The session _did _make me angry, because, guess what? She asked me about my relationship with The Joker, wanting to know if he has affected my behaviour. I thought it a pointless thing to talk about, as it was plainly obvious what the answer was. I didn't smile again during the rest of the session, since I had to bring up Larry again, but lie about why I wanted to kill him.

The threatening of our separation while under this roof is _still_ biting away at my worries.

_What if they know? _A voice is saying. _What if they know you're related? What if they find out?_

Maybe they secretly have, but if they _have_, then, they are heartless human beings, separating a child from its father.

_Maybe that's the real reason they want you apart_, another snarls.

Writing is pointless now, as I just want to scream. I want to scream so loudly, that it will overpower the voices screaming inside my brain.

I'm _so _angry.

If I only I had a knife right now, I would use it to pick the lock, sneak into Doctor Sinner's room and pleasurably stick the knife under her ribs while she sleeps.

I don't like her anymore.

I wonder why she wears ribbons that represent the seven deadly sins, anyway? Because she's embarrassingly committed them all in her life and is ashamed of herself? Because she has awful fashion taste?

I can't sleep because the voices are so deafening, telling me the worst.

What would The Joker want me to do if this happens? To continue with it, that's what.

My hand's about to plop off, I've been writing so untidily for so long.

Stop. _Stop_.

I've been repeating that word for at least an hour now, and I'm still muttering it as I write.

I have to make it stop. I'm _going _to make this wrath stop, whether the other inmates like it or not.

I hope they're struggling to get to sleep, because if they are nuzzling into their dreams, so happily, I'm about to crush everything.

So, have I committed wrath? I'll let you decide.

Have you committed all seven? If you have, I'll see you in Hell.


	29. Get Out Of Jail Free Card

_**This is intentionally a long chapter. I think it may be one of the longest in the story. Just to make clear the content in this can get quite complex, but I edited and did as much as I could to make it effective and as good as I can, like I always do. **_

_**I just hope to show Doctor Sinner's mind being pulled upon more than anything in this.**_

_**Hope you like :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 28 - Get Out Of Jail Free Card**

Having your life controlled is not satisfying in any way. Fresh air seems to be banned, and every move you make is watched. It's written down. Anything you do that's suspicious will be the talk amongst the staff.

After that day of my wrath, the staff kept an annoyingly close eye on me.

The Joker and I were not forced to be separated, like he and Harley were, but whenever we interacted in the cafeteria or outside, about three bodyguards loomed over our conversations, which we now had to keep irritatingly limited. If they heard any sort of scheming, they would immediately report back to Doctor Arkham. Joker would purposely fill me in with more tales of my abusive grandfather, making the guards wince and shuffle around us when he rustled into the gory details.

Harley would sob onto Ivy's shoulder every day, whining about missing her Mister J. Even The Joker would sometimes talk about her. He would whimsically talk about how she transformed into an obsessive freak, though he told me so many versions I wasn't sure what to believe.

I was starting to believe maybe my dad _did _love Harleen more than my mom after all.

I kept a close eye on GCN from my static TV in my cell. For all the times I watched, there was still no news on anyone escaping from Blackgate, including Chase and Enigma. Rather infuriatingly, they doubled the security since that day we attempted to get Edward Nygma out of there.

The days scattered by quicker and quicker, as my anticipation and excitement burnt more and more. It sent that familiar sensation to propel through my whole body, until it throbbed inside my head, and I could hear it pound through my ears, making everything around me seem soundless. Even the explosive fireworks that I watched lovingly from my barred window on New Year's Day didn't seem to make the usual thunderous booms they created every year. It just seemed like a pretty hallucination in the sky to me.

It eventually came to the last day of January 2009. My therapeutic session had be assigned to be that afternoon at 2pm. I waited patiently for my doctor to arrive. The stormy rain was crashing against the windows, along with the blustery wind, which was howling furiously. I was handcuffed.

When Doctor Sinner finally joined me, ten minutes late, she was trembling like a tree in October, taking long strides to the chair and nervously pushing her hair over her ear. I now noticed the seven ribbons, now in fact each had a word written on them, in messy permanent ink. When I managed to squint my eyes to get a closer look, I noticed the first ribbon had 'Greed' written on it.

I burst out laughing when I saw each of the sins were now scruffily written on a different ribbon.

"Is something funny?" Doctor Sinner questioned, as she sat down, with her clipboard.

"Getting a bit dark there with your hair ribbons, huh?" I snickered. "What's up with _that_?"

"Nothing," she mumbled.

"Oh my god." I took a deep breath to compose myself, before leaning in a little closer to the bewildered psychiatrist. "Is something wrong, Doctor Sinner?" I asked, grinning, making my voice sound darkly pleasant. "You look very…_flustered_…today. Well, to be honest…you've been looking like that for a few days. What's up, girl?"

"I told you, Jane, it's nothing," she said again. "I'm fine."

"Horrible day, isn't it, Doctor Sinner?" I said.

"Yes," she replied, blankly. "It is."

"How's life treating you?" She didn't answer, and instead began writing on a clean page. "Doctor Sinner?" I said again. I couldn't help but smile wider. "What's up?"

"Jane. Today I need to discuss something important," she said.

"Okay…" I reluctantly replied. She looked directly into my eyes, and folded her arms. "Is it about my depression?" I guessed, giving a hopeful look.

"No," she sighed, rolling her eyes, giving me an intolerable look, as if I was stupid. "We discussed _that_ when we first began, didn't we, Jane?"

"Yes, but–"

"What I actually want to talk to you about, is your father."

My smile vanished.

"My father?" I said, shakily, shooting a curious look at her.

"Yes," she said.

I noticed that the pen she then picked up, was quivering in her hand as she wrote, an exasperated frown making her forehead crease like the paper in front of her. Seeing this familiar emotion of wrath, made me suddenly see _myself_ shakily writing my thoughts down, morphed into the doctor's slimmer build.

My heart missed an excited beat. A flame flickered, making me gasp and vigorously shake my head.

My hallucination suddenly went back to Doctor Sinner, who was now staring at me.

"What's wrong, Jane?" she asked.

"Oh, uh…nothing," I stammered. "Just, uh…a little _crazy _picture flickered in front of me."

"A hallucination?"

My reply to that was a simple sinister scowl.

"Just…get on with it," I then growled, wanting this conversation to end as soon as possible.

"Jane…there has been something on my mind for quite a while now…" she began.

"Is it a demon?" I interrupted. "Don't worry, you get used to them."

"No. It's something rather peculiar."

"Everything to do with me is peculiar, though, right? As it is with you. You've been acting rather stressed lately, Doctor."

"It's because there's been a lot going on in my life."

"Same with me."

The doctor sighed deeply, flicked back the Sloth strand of her dark hair.

"As you know, Doctor Arkham works with Commissioner Gordon…" she started, calmly.

"_Why_?" I hissed. "What's the _point_?"

"Regarding patients' criminal actions, Jane," Doctor Sinner answered. "It's important to know all their criminal records and his opinion on why their actions occurred. I have explained this before."

"I know," I said, nodding. "I just wanted you to explain it again."

"Anyway, Doctor Arkham and Gordon were discussing many things yesterday evening, particularly about The Joker. Doctor Arkham wanted myself to be involved in this conversation, as Gordon was interested on how treatment was working for you. I showed him some of your records, where he noticed something odd."

"Something odd?"

"He noticed…at the very beginning of these sessions, back in August, that I had written down what you said to me about your relationship with your father. Gordon told me, that you had told _him_, during your interrogation some time before, that your father was dead. That he had committed suicide two years ago. However, you told _me_, your father was still alive."

"Yes?"

"And then as our discussion progressed, Doctor Arkham and I were comparing you and The Joker's mental tendencies with Commissioner Gordon."

"By that you mean whatever the fuck is wrong with us, huh?"

"If _that's _the way you want to look at it. We noticed you have a lot of similar mental disorders. You both have paranoid schizophrenia, you both admitted to having depression in the past, resulting in both of you being manic depressants, there was a hint of bipolar disorder in him, like you, and you also _both _have ADHD. He has antisocial personality disorder, you conduct disorder, which are both very similar."

"So? And why are you discussing really _important _stuff like _that _so many months later, Doctor Sinner? Not very good at your job, are you?"

"I _am _good at my job, Jane," she snapped. "I have given my _life _to this job. This is my life. I've had to sacrifice so much to be a successful psychiatrist."

"Like you gave up your parents for it, huh?" I scolded.

"I didn't _give up _my parents," she retorted. "I never have. They are just difficult."

"Because they don't like to see their daughter stressed, maybe?"

"The stress has been affecting them too much."

"Oh. Oh dear."

"My father…my father is very ill. He's elderly and is panicked. Too much heart burn, due to alcohol. He has had it for months now."

"Oh."

"It's been hard. I've risked _everything _on treating you, Jane. Everything. My job depends on me treating you, you understand that?"

"You told me many times, Doctor Sinner."

"Being successful with you, could increase my pay if Doctor Arkham increases my status in this asylum, therefore helping my family more. You don't _know _how it's been. So _please_…help me. Be truthful with me. _Please_."

"I always am, aren't I?"

"Well, you lied to _one _of us."

"What do you mean?"

"You told Commissioner Gordon you father was dead."

"He _is _dead."

"You told me, he was alive."

"He _is_."

"Jane! What's the truth?! Tell me the truth. Because if he _is _alive, I may have a clue on _who _your father is."

"Oh really? Detective Sinner now, are we? Why? You think my father is somebody important?"

"Not in terms of a high-class status or job–"

"_Charming_."

"But important in terms of…this City's justice system."

I grinned.

"You don't think it's the Batman, do you?" I teased.

"_No_!" she cried.

"Alright, calm yourself," I giggled.

"Please, Jane," she begged, tears raiding her eyes. "Please tell me truth. Is he alive or dead?"

I gave her a blank look.

"He's, uh…" I whispered. "He's both."

"He's _what_?" Doctor Sinner spluttered.

"He's alive _and _he's dead," I joked.

"Jane, _come on_," she moaned.

"Why does it make any difference anyway?" I demanded.

"Because–" the doctor began.

"My father has _nothing _to do with my mental health," I bluffed.

"You're lying to me, now, Jane," Doctor Sinner figured out. "You told me you inherited several things from him."

"Hmm, yeah," I giggled. "Including his eyes."

"I swear, if you don't tell me…" she warned.

"This is ridiculous," I groaned. "Wanting to improve _my _well-being, and you talk about my _father_."

"Is he alive?" she interrogated, like a police officer would.

"Yes!" I exclaimed.

"Honestly?"

"Yes, he's alive! Technically."

"Technically?"

"What I mean is, he is _technically _not deceased, but his _soul_ is like…it's gone. Vanished. Like he _is _dead. Two years ago it happened when he didn't know what to do with himself, and I saw it _all _happen."

The psychiatrist paused for a very long time.

The room was halted into silence. The blandness of the white walls caved into us, making my entire soul fall flat. I remained expressionless to Doctor Sinner, though my heart was rattling my ribcage.

"It's just…I've been putting all the pieces together, recently," she finally said, leaning over the table slightly. "The Joker is obviously the person you look up to. Am I correct?"

"Of course," I replied, at once.

"As disturbing as that is, I can't help but feel it makes sense," Doctor Sinner continued.

My eyebrows lifted.

"Really?" I chuckled.

"You say you look up to him," Doctor Sinner went on. "But you also tell me your _father _was your idol, always encouraging crime in your life, and then telling me he went through a hard time. You also tell me you inherited a lot of things from your father's mental health. Both of you are _unbearable_. Both of you act the same. I'm starting to feel that isn't a coincidence, or that he inspires you to act sneaky with everyone, including me."

I knew exactly what was coming, but I remained quiet.

"Are you trying to say I _shouldn't_…look up to him?" I questioned.

"It _is _worrying, Jane," she said. "But I can't help but wonder if…if The Joker…this…this terrorist who spreads chaos wherever he goes, is…is _adamant _that _everyone_ is mentally insane in some way…which is _exactly _what you believe…I wonder if that's what you've believed your _whole _life? Or is it in fact, something you've been told from a young age? Only someone like _that _could raise a child believing these things. So, Jane, please tell me this." She paused, lowering her silky voice. "Is The Joker your biological father?"

I didn't answer the question, simply raising one eyebrow and staring at her.

As usual, it's hard for me to give a normal answer.

"Do _you _still believe in what _your _father told you as a child?" I then asked her.

"Answer…the question," she ordered.

"I thought we were supposed to be discussing _my _well-being and health, _not _The Joker's," I said.

"If you two are related, we then _know _why you're working together."

"Even if we _were_, someone like _you _would never understand why we work together," I snapped.

"So you're not?"

"I don't have anything to say," I answered, blankly, simply refusing to give in to my psychiatrist. It _was _none of her business, after all.

"So you are?" she said, a spark of hope gripping her voice.

"Why don't you get Doctor Arkham to get The Joker's answer?" I suggested, attempting to sound uplifting.

"Because the best thing he does is make things up," she replied, harshly. "At least you speak more truth than he does."

"Ha!" I guffawed.

"What?"

"You say I'm so much like Joker, doesn't that make _me _a fantasist too?"

"I just want an answer."

Doctor Sinner's voice was now rusty. It was almost like she was begging for her life. I could see the desperation flare up her gorgeous eyes. I instantly knew from her shuffling she obsessed with completing this task.

You think I would let her win? In her dreams.

"Listen," I said, softly, leaning in closer. My voice suddenly clicked into its psychotic princess voice, without any signs of warning it was going to appear from the back of my sore throat. "Everything you need to know, will come from The Joker, not me. He thinks highly of me. I know that's hard to believe, but it's the truth, Doctor Sinner, I swear."

"Jane…"

"What if I wrote it down? Would you look?"

"Yes."

"How can you be sure I'm being truthful, though?"

"I can't."

"Well, what's the point in asking me then?"

"If my thoughts _are _correct, it will not go down well with the cops."

"Well, _nothing _goes down well with them, does it?"

I kept thinking to myself, it's taken her an awful long time for her to figure this out, but I never complained about it. I knew The Joker said that it wouldn't matter if they found out, it would make things ten times more interesting. I simply didn't reveal the truth about it, because the truth was something that was becoming increasingly more difficult for me to tell. It's like the truth was glued to the back of my throat, the glue extra thick, the corners slowly ripping down, but not quite the entire truth was shredding down, so it could escape to my mouth. But to my advantage, it just wound up Doctor Sinner's annoyance more, therefore boiling up her madness.

I wondered if my father had told Doctor Arkham he had a daughter.

That little tinge of hope in the back of mind still gleamed, with the thought that he still cared about me, and that he just struggled to show it.

The session ended too quickly, the doctor's hair covering her eyes, and tightly hugging herself around her arms. She looked horribly insecure, taking the tiniest of steps out of room. She looked over her shoulder, bulleting a blank look at me, before leaving me to giggle uncontrollably by myself.

When I was pushed out, of course I was ordered to shut up, like they thought they had control over my life.

They're not as tough as they think.

The next morning was marvellously hectic, many bodies zooming past my cell to rush to god only knows what situation. I couldn't hear anything that was being discussed, but one thing's for sure, it sparked my mind with endless possibilities of chaotic situations occurring at Arkham Asylum that day.

About half an over past the usual time I was pushed out of my cell to go to breakfast, I was escorted to the cafeteria by three bodyguards, handcuffed slapped around my wrists and a series of disturbed eyes following on my journey there. They continued to spy on me as I made my entrance into the room.

I wasn't totally sure why all the inmates stared at me each and every meal time at Arkham. I realise I was the youngest there (maybe even the youngest ever), but surely I wasn't _that _disturbing? I didn't care if I was avoided anyway.

As usual, The Joker could not come down until Harley was out, and I immediately spotted her and Ivy in the very corner of the enormous cafeteria, but on this particular day, my ears were not up to being shredded by their squeals and grating chatter.

Once my sloppy food was squashed onto my plate, and my hands were free to roam, I carried my tray and slumped myself down on an empty bench in the corner of the room, beginning to prod my fork into the rubbery sausages and munch it off the end of my fork. Two of the guards left me be, presumably to get ready to guide The Joker, leaving one guard alone to keep a beady eye on me as I began to eat, very slowly. I smiled up at him, simply to make his heart beat unsteadily in my presence.

More and more prisoners stampeded through the door as I waited for The Joker to arrive, to enlighten me with another jaw-dropping magic trick.

Scarecrow was one of the inmates to bustle his way through the door, who hurriedly trotted over to join me at my table, once he collected his food. Surprisingly, the guard allowed this. I beamed as Doctor Crane sat next to me. His straw mask gawked at me, but I could still see his gleaming blue orbs through the eyeholes. They sparkled.

"Hey, honey," I greeted, sweetly.

Scarecrow tossed his mask from his head, placing it next to his tray. He gave me his most gorgeous smirk, while ruffling his dirty brown hair.

"Good morning, trouble," he said. He then nodded up at the guard, who sneered back down at him. "Hey, Kyle."

"Kyle?"

"Was a good friend of mine when I used to be the most…respected doctor here at Arkham. It's such a shame they let me go."

"Terrible shame," I giggled. "How's this place treating you _now_?" I gnawed on a piece of bread, like I hadn't eaten in weeks.

"How it has always treated me, as a matter of fact," he answered. "It's a rough patch, but it's the lesson you learn here, you take away with you when you leave."

"Good answer." He wouldn't take his eyes of me, continuing to intrigue me with that cunning smirk of his. "What you smiling like that for?"

"Nothing. It's just…today could be interesting."

"How come?" I gulped down my water, not taking my focus of his gorgeous facial features.

"I suppose Doctor Cavendish or any other member of staff has informed you the devastating news before he dragged you down here."

I flinched suddenly, shooting up straight like a firecracker had gone off underneath my seat.

"News?" I gasped. "There's actually _news_? What news?"

"It's extremely curious. Very worrying."

"Worrying to _him_, I hope?"

"Cavendish is Ivy's doctor," Scarecrow went on, nodding over to where she was sitting, "and she informed me, when we were queuing up outside, that Cavendish told _her_, this morning, as they had an early therapy session, to our _luck_, that Doctor Sinner has not shown up for work today."

My heart missed several beats. I stared at the man next to me, who just kept on smirking. I felt the grin starting to tug upon my lips.

"I'm sorry…_what_?" I hissed.

"Doctor Sinner hasn't shown up for work," he stated.

A cunning laugh tore itself into my brain and began to conjure the voices to laugh with him. I blinked several times, to let the suddenness of it all creep in.

A piercing giggle ripped through my throat and unexpectedly exploded through the cafeteria. I smacked my hand over my mouth and cackled into my cupped hand, the vibration of my sudden snickers tickling my palm even further.

"You're _joking_!" I snickered, widening my brown eyes at him.

"Apparently many of the prisoners know about it," he continued, sounding hauntingly calm. He gazed forward, at nothing in particular. "But it appears that something has happened to her, and I can always tell when the staff are worried. When someone like Alyce does not show up to the job she so loves and is so determined to do, there is something _very_ strange going on." His eyes trailed down to me. "Someone must have had a little _word_ with her, don't you think?"

I exploded into callous laughter, slamming my fist onto the table in hilarious hysteria. The cutlery jumped in surprise as my frenetic outburst, but now I had been locked onto this mode, it would take an awful lot to tame me out of it again.

This was just _too _good.

_You've won! _they were jeering. _Wherever could she be?_

I laughed harder.

"Oh that is _precious_!" I exclaimed. My stomach began to ache, but a pain that mild I could laugh off easily by now.

"Price, _shut up_ and keep eating," the guard above me instructed, gruffly, giving me an almost parental glare.

I poked my tongue out of him, and winked.

"_You _shut up!"

Still sniggering loudly at this hilarious premise, I attempted to keep nibbling away on my food to prevent me from having a breakdown, purely due to laughter, but my joints and ribcage continued to prod me with an unbearable aching twinge.

I felt a salty tear of joy spout from the corner of my eye.

The grin refused to leave my face.

I _loved _this feeling.

The truly _maniacal_ laughter started to itch the back of my throat. It became more and more irritating, that even my feet started scraping the ground underneath the table, my fists becoming white as I clenched them around my cutlery.

The voices weren't helping me either.

_This…is…great_, they were sniggering, cruelly. _I wonder where she is. I wonder how she is feeling right now. How curious. _

_She's probably crying herself to sleep._

_Or maybe laughing at the fact that deep down she's truly lost her mind. _

"Can you tell them to pipe down?" I said to Crane.

"Excuse me?" He choked on his drink, cracking me up with an even more nauseating giggle. I didn't bother to respond with words, just continuing to laugh at the gaping, bewildered expressions of him and the others surrounding the cafeteria. "This is just like being in a classroom where you're fighting not to laugh," Crane then said.

"They're too loud," I complained. "They're always too loud."

"Price, _shut up_," ordered 'Kyle', above me.

"How rude is _that_?" I said, aloud, so everyone could hear. I spluttered into witch-like laughter, and it rang beautifully through the walls of the cafeteria. "What's _wrong _with Doctor Sinner?!" A powerful fire scorched my feet, making me spring from my seat. "Why is she _not _here?!" I cried out to everyone, rhetorically.

Finally, the demons' giggles inside my head finally unleashed my maniacal laugh, waiting to leap out from the depths of my throat. It appeared to be infectious, as many of the inmates sitting around me starting chuckling themselves, though whether they were laughing _with _me, or _at _me, I did not know.

I was becoming totally out of my mind, but it was fun.

"Price, sit _down_!" was the gruff next order above me.

"She's fucking _wounded_!" I wailed, bursting into cruel sniggers again.

The crowded laughter increased as they saw me being slammed back down onto my seat, with just a simple push of my shoulder from Kyle.

"You and I may be the only ones who are not worried," Scarecrow whispered.

I giggled.

"She looked drained yesterday," I said, in a hoarse whisper. "Like, _emotionally distraught_. She said her father was very ill. Well. Boo. Hoo."

"Price, you are not to discuss members of staff's absence to another patient," Kyle droned on.

"I do it _all _the _time_, mister!" I huffed, pouting.

"Not about their personal problems."

"Personal problems? She discusses _mine_ day in, day out! And they say _I'm _the one who needs help. Ha. Why shouldn't I–?!"

The chatter of the room dropped to silence when a bodyguard cried, "Kyle!" as he suddenly burst into the room. Mine and Scarecrow's heads swivelled to the door to stare at them, like everyone else did, including the cooks. Another guard was behind him. It was then I noticed it was the two who had previously left me after escorting me down.

"What?!" Kyle hissed.

"We need you right now," he instructed.

Sweat was trickling down his face, as he caught his breath. He looked incredibly flustered.

"This doesn't look good," I giggled, delightedly.

"What's happened?" Kyle asked.

"It's an emergency."

"Why?"

"Patient 7745 is missing. He's not in his cell. We've reported it to Gordon, and he's told he cannot find Jeremiah Arkham either."

"Gordon?" I muttered.

Kyle groaned.

"But I can't leave Price. It's my job to–" he began.

"Kyle, Gordon has given instructions!"

"But what about–"

"There's staff in here to keep an eye on _all _of 'em. Come _on_. He's gone missing. _Both _of them!"

Reluctantly, Kyle sauntered away from our bench, and headed out of the door, where it shut us all in with a huge clash.

As soon as the doors concealed us all back in, the curious prattling conversations rose up again between everyone, but was soon calmed down by the staff around us.

I swished back round to Scarecrow, my jaw anchored to the floor. All he did was keep that inane smile on his lips.

Patient 7745. That number clouded my head repeatedly.

I'd seen it every day.

_7745_. _You **know **what that number is, PJ_, they snarled.

"Joker…" I whispered.

"I'm sorry?" Crane asked.

"7745…" I breathed.

_It's your daddy's number_.

"Shut it."

"Jane?"

I quickly shook my head, immediately returning to my usual paranoid self. The hysteria had seem to have vanished immediately.

It was just the thought of The Joker. My _father_.

"What was all _that_ about?" I inquired, referring to the commotion that just occurred.

"Calmed down yet, rascal?" he said, lifting his eyebrows, flirtatiously.

"Don't pet name me," I warned. "What was that all about?"

"Well, I thought you were listening."

"Oh, _clever_."

"It's not my duty to tell you who they're looking for. You should _know_, if you were paying attention, trouble."

"Why did they just burst in and announce it to _everyone_ instead of doing it over their walkie-talkies? Now _everyone's _gonna cause a commotion because they've heard that." I leaned my face on my knuckle, and smirked at the thought of the rampant occurrence that was happening right at that moment. "They're own fault if they cause a commotion _now_, huh?"

"That _is_ a point."

"But…what's this about Gordon? What's _he _doing here?"

"You know he has connections with this place, unfortunately."

"But why is he _here_?" I repeated. Crane shrugged, impassively. "Oh, come on, Scarecrow. I _know _that number, 7745, is The Joker's. He's gone missing. Where is he?"

"He could be anywhere by now."

"You know." I pointed a shaky finger at him. "You _know_! What's going on?"

He remained blank.

"Arkham is missing," was his flat answer.

"Yes I _know_, I heard them! What happened to him?"

"If the Head of the asylum is missing, the cops will get involved in patrolling the asylum. It happens frequently when an unfortunate mishap happens here. I should know."

I sighed, impatiently, rolling my eyes.

"Where…is…Joker?" I questioned, firmly.

"I assumed you'd be more excited about the commotion," Crane said.

"Well…I _am_…but…I'm just so…so…"

"Curious?"

"Yeah."

"Strange that on this particular day two members of staff go missing, isn't it, Jane?"

"Scarecrow. Tell me. Now."

He chuckled, and began to delve into the pockets of his dirty orange all-in-one. Rolling his tongue in concentration, he eventually flicked out a minuscule piece of paper, which had been folded over and over again, until it was a tiny square of paper, which Scarecrow held between his thumb and index finger.

My forehead creased with confusion, as my eyes exchanged from the paper to his smirk several times.

"Take it, quickly," he hissed. I immediately snatched it off him and dug my fisted hand into my own pocket, keeping the paper concealed within my palm. Luckily, the guards within the cafeteria were too busy settling the bustling inmates, still causing a racket after the huge announcement that was just made, to notice this. "This will tell you everything, everything that's going on," Scarecrow then stated.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"It's a letter, that I was given strict instructions to give you, this very morning."

"A letter?"

"Exactly."

"From…?"

"Your…" He leaned closer and turned his voice into a lower whisper. "Your…let's say…parental figure."

"Ah."

"Everything is perfectly stable, to _us_, anyway. Take it to your cell, and say no more about it until it's be safe to discuss it. Discussing it _now_, and there will be trouble, because…well…you'll see."

"What if they search my pockets before I'm let out of here?"

"Tell them the truth."

"What?"

"That it's a letter from your father."

"But–"

"Patients receive letters all the time, girly. They'll understand."

"There's something weird going on. But I'm excited."

"So am I. Now, eat up, Jane, before I eat it myself. Got to gear myself up by feeding my brain."

I stared at him.

"You're so weird," I chuckled.

"I'm a doctor. It's natural."

"But…in a good way. Weird people are crazy. But in a good way. I mean, look at me, huh?"

"A genius. You're cleverer than most people here think."

"I _know _I'm not stupid. I'm far from it. I _know _I'm dangerous too. And I'm proud."

"Good for you."

It didn't take long for Harley to be carried out of the cafeteria, with her legs swinging crazily and shrieking at the top of her lungs, so everyone was covering up their ears in agony. She eventually was drugged to sleep, just as she was squealing the word "no" repeatedly, by the door. We all watched her being dragged out of the door like a corpse, the guards calling out for an immediate treatment for her.

Harley's mind had collapsed into a panic attack right there and then. She obviously guessed The Joker had escaped, and being away from him in Arkham had been bad enough for her, but not even being able to see his _face_ around and about anymore? It was _catastrophic_.

As we were all loaded out after the hour, it was followed a while later by the hour of fresh air in the grounds. It was barely guarded during that hour, due to the staff sprinting around the place trying to discover where their Head Psychiatrist was, and of course, the disappearance of Patient 7745.

I did my best to stay alone during the break and just have a long thinking session to myself about everything that was about to happen. I didn't even talk to Crane, who also sat stiff on his own in the other corner of the area. He looked just as blank and mind-rushed as I did.

Unfortunately, Ivy spotted me and lit up a conversation with me about everything that was happy. Me being my usual secretive self, I managed to change the subject to Enigma.

I did miss Enigma. During my time at Arkham, I had often wondered what she was up to. Was she out of Blackgate yet? Was she depressed? Reconciled with her stepfather? Was _he _still in Blackgate?

I was prepared to find out after I got out of there.

For once, I couldn't wait to be lobbed back into my cell after that hour. It was Kyle who granted that wish. He didn't even inspect my pockets, and remarkably, the folded paper was small enough to not see its silhouette through my pocket.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief when we arrived in the corridor of cells I belonged to.

"Have you been informed your psychiatrist has not shown up today?" Kyle asked me, as he locked me behind my bars.

"Oh yes," I answered, sweetly.

"We're trying to contact her as much as possible. We've visited her property and the door was locked. As soon as we find out what's going on, we'll get your psychiatric rehabilitation back on track as soon as we can."

"You know, Kyle, you should _really _leave her be. She's going through a lot at the moment. She has to deal with treating _me_, and on top of that, she's stressed as it is. She's fighting to get a higher status here, I _know _she is. Plus, she told me her father's not very well. Maybe you should give her a break."

I left Kyle speechless, and he simply cleared his throat and marched away from my cell, after it was securely closed.

I laughed and flung myself onto my 'bed.' Without even thinking, I switched on my small television. It greeted me with the chaotic whistles of the poor signal. The screen jiggered wildly, until the screen eventually pieced itself together to display GCN's live broadcast to me.

I sighed in disappointment when I discovered they were firstly reporting about the Batman, until, the male anchor said this:

"Gotham City Police Department have stated they believe, that Batman's fight for justice may have ended."

"What?!" I cried, joyously.

"He has not been seen since the night the terrorist The Joker was caught attempting to mentally torture Commissioner Gordon and his family, where Batman and the cops caught The Joker, and Batman allegedly saved Joker's assistant, Princess Jane Price, when she was found on conscious."

"What?! Get your _facts _right, GCN. He never _saved _me! He...found me, and…trapped me in another building!"

"According to reports, the Batman's true identity is still a mystery, however, they claim that this is one of the reasons he has not shown himself within the last six months. Reports claim that they believe Batman has decided his absence because his identity may be revealed if he continued to be Gotham's saviour. This has caused anger amongst GCPD, especially during the days in which Price and assistants caused terror in Riverside and Cicero, and since Price murdered crime boss Johnny Falino. Many crime bosses have stated their desire for revenge against Price, who is now serving time in Arkham Asyulm, for doing this to Falino. They had previously been allies with The Joker, but since have stated their hate for him after he, what they believe, purposely stole half their money and did not keep his word to them. As ever, the mob and the cops are worlds apart, but it appear that their hatred for the terrorist and his brainwashed teenage assistant and lover, Harley Quinn, is fundamentally equal."

"What_ever_, GCN," I scolded. "The thing about the mob? They like _organised _crime. Bo-oring. The cops? They like organised _justice_. Ugh. It's not _fun_! They both _hate us _for having fun? Well…huh…if they hate me and Joker, I hate them too."

It soon glossed over to the main story. As soon as the anchor began, my body clicked upwards.

"Arkham Asylum's highly renowned and respected Head Psychiatrist Doctor Jeremiah Arkham himself, has been reported to have gone missing from the property today, after not showing up for work, his usual early hours of the morning."

"High renowned and _respected_?"

"Not only has Doctor Arkham not shown up, but also his assistant, Doctor Alyce Sinner, was also reported to have not shown up. After discovering this, Doctor Joan Leland reported to Gotham City Police Department to investigate their locations, as neither responded to relentless contact by cell phone, plus neither of them were at their addresses."

"Tough luck."

"After Commissioner Gordon lead the investigation at 4am this morning, it was discovered by Doctor Charles Cavendish that a patient, labelled 7745, was missing from his cell, later discovered to have escaped the asylum altogether. As this was reported to Gordon and the police, this patient was later revealed to be The Joker himself, who Doctor Arkham was treating in a psychiatric rehabilitation program."

"So they say."

"It is wildly regarded that The Joker is responsible for their disappearances."

"You _think_?"

"Gordon later criticised the staff at Arkham for their poor security systems, but is still continuing to investigate all three's locations."

"Idiot."

"As for the asylum itself, it is being patrolled by Gotham City Police Department, with the Mayor of Gotham and colleagues assisting. Today, and the security is undergoing serious inspection of how The Joker may have escaped, as well as now making their security system much more stable. For the citizens' sake, we hope for Batman to return justice, because God knows, we need him before this psychopath begins to ruin our great City again."

"Since when was this a great City?"

"If you have any information on any of the victims' locations, as well as the escapee, please contact Gotham City Police Department or here in–"

I cut off the nonsense using the remote, sighing heavily as I slung myself on my desk's chair.

I placed the hundred times folded 'letter' onto the table. I stared at it with lidded eyes for what seemed like an hour.

"What _have _you done?" I said under my breath.

I didn't realise I was grinning until I slid my tongue through my lips, like The Joker would.

Finally, I began to rustle the paper as silently as possible, unfolding every part it very slowly, until I finally had a full A4 letter scribbled in front of me, after approximately ten folds. I was shocked to see the writing was in red ink. The writing was so tiny, and so scattered and unevenly layered I had to blink hard to make sure it wasn't just my hazy vision. When the first word, my name, came into vision, I leaped from my seat, and propped myself on the floor, hiding behind the desk, leaning my back on it.

Resting the letter on my knees, I began to read the dispersed writing:

_Dear Princess Jane Price,_

_Firstly, I'd like to address to you, that if anyone in Arkham asks where I am from this moment onwards, tell them the truth. The truth is, that when you read this, I'll be…in a place where you don't know. Gotcha. _

_The things you do to me. You've got me writing, you little scamp. I must thank you, you are truly inspirational with the therapies you've been given. Of the creative therapies stuff, I mean. I, on the other hand, am inspirational to YOU, correct? It appears to have worked. And I respect that tremendously. _

_This feels very strange right now. I don't write. Only actions. Actions speak louder than words. Everyone knows that. Everyone also knows that that's the man I am, and I'm not a man who's about to change. _

_I suppose you have been told to write recently by Doctor Sinner? Jerry told me that writing is good for the mind. Keeps you occupied._

_Unfortunately, I can't speak to you directly at this moment in time, so tonight, I'm gonna write you a story. A story set in the future. A true story. I'll give it to your uncle Scarecrow to give it you in two morning's time._

_But don't try and read this in my voice. Read it in your voice._

_This story is about a man, who isn't scared of anything. Nothing, except himself. Let's call him The Black Joker. He's been locked up in a very fancy asylum for a long time. He has a companion, who is just like him, except, a female, hyperactive, and only seventeen years old. Let's call her The Red Joker._

_Now, during his long, long, LONG days here at the place for the mentally underprivileged, he suspects something is happening to his doctor, the King of Hearts. He appears to be horribly worried, stressed and is shocked at his inability to treat Black Joker, when he has been successful in treating so many others before him. Is Black Joker just too inconsistent, as he says? _

_NO. He is extremely CONSISTENT with EVERYTHING._

_Shockingly, Red Joker tells Black Joker that she is also having concerns about her religious doctor, the Queen of Hearts. They both appear to be very stressed and emotional during therapy sessions, and has been getting worse and worse and worse._

_WHATEVER shall they do?_

_What the doctors don't know, is that they are experiencing their own madness while working with these apparent FREAKS. Working in a place like that does that to even the most stable of minds, and working with two freaks certainly makes them question their own mental health. _

_Black Joker has been hearing many suspicious things in the King of Hearts' office. So one night, he steals the King of Hearts' video camera, and secretly hides it in his office, while he is in there collecting his paper work. Getting it back the next morning, he hears everything that the Hearts have been discussing._

_Black Joker is adamant that Queen of Hearts pleads for her King while she visits him. Just pleads for him. Oh, and a higher status job. But mostly him. They talk about money. They talk about stress. And then there's a series of noises. Erotic noises, following noises of sorrow. This amuses Black Joker. _

_Black Joker notices on the recording, Queen of Hearts has a horrifying tone of voice that screams out guilt. He thinks he hears the word 'dead', but he is not sure. He wonders what on earth they get up to in there. _

_They just seem to cry. Shout. Be grumpy. CLUELESS. _

_What is going on? It seems they are not the highly respected doctors the world seems._

_They are selfish, desperate, and argumentative. Both of them. And it's all because of the Jokers, who fear nothing in the world, but their own minds. Correct?_

_They are really the King and Queen of CLUBS._

_Why should such a thing be kept a secret?_

_So this man decides to test their REAL minds. Showcase to them, how the mind truly works, because he can't wait for much longer. With help from his good friend, let's call him the Devil with Drawn on Horns, and his other female companions, called…Harley and Ivy…he arranges an escape and a capture of the doctors to show the unjustifiable City they live in, why chaos is so important, and organisation and order is NO FUN. _

_It takes a lot of sneaky business to accomplish this, but in the end, Black Joker will end up rightfully accomplishing his freedom. Devil with Drawn on Horns has a secret magical toxin power, which creates fear and brain-boggling confusion, as does Ivy, a toxin that erases one's memory, and they very kindly they let Black Joker use this to achieve his long-desired goal. It also takes contact, and outside FAKENESS to help out._

_Red Joker will eventually find out what her FATHER achieved, where he is, and what surprises he has for his most faithful agent._

_Impressive? _

_I won't bore you with all the complicated strategies of how I got outta here. They are too much for your poor little brain, my girl. All you should know that was involved was: toxin, disguises, fake cops, a lot of brains and NO brawn. And video evidence. And a lot of idiocy. Not on my part. You know that. _

_All you should know right now, is that someone will pay a visit to your cell tonight, with a key, and before you know it, you'll see me shortly afterwards. _

_I trust you to trust me, which quite frankly, is highly dangerous. But danger is fun._

_Without danger, the world wouldn't be the world._

_Do NOT go to sleep tonight. Do NOT let the police distract you. They are NOT all real cops. And do NOT spill the beans. Cos I will know._

_Signed,_

_The Black Joker._

_P.S. There is a reason I used red ink._

_HA HA HA HA HA._

My lips were stapled together after for a long, tense while after reading this letter. It was obvious what The Joker had done, referring back to the playing cards and blatantly explaining what he has done.

I didn't speak. I just simply gazed at the letter, re-reading it over and over.

What I wanted to know was, how on earth did he manage to get Doctor Arkham's camera and hide it, get it back and watch what went on in his office, all without being seen? How on earth wasn't he caught? I knew sometimes Arkham took Joker into his office to do therapy if he had a lot of paperwork to do, but did Arkham just carelessly leave him in the room without somebody to watch him and he managed to do this without being caught red-handed? Wouldn't they have found it on the security cameras? Or wouldn't have Arkham seen what he'd recorded back on the camera?

The Joker could do mind-blowing magic, but surely _that's _impossible?

I presumed that at that moment, he was in an obscure abandoned building, with both of them tied up and gagged and being humiliated, or he was in the process of doing this.

Once I had managed to piece my mind back together, I carefully folded the letter away and tucked it into my notepad, which was peacefully sleeping on my desk. I scampered over to my bed and lay still, hugging it close to my chest.

But as I lay there, thinking about this strange situation, that I thought was impossible and undoable, something started to creep up within my mind.

A voice. A snarl, that came up from the watery depths of the battlefield, which resided in my mind.

_Why didn't he take you with him? _it's raspy voice questioned me.

It may have been a whisper, but it still made me squirm in shock.

I held my breath, as I knew what was coming.

An argument was about to explode within the pits of my mind, and I wasn't prepared to make it start.

_He promised you'd **both **escape together. He left you behind._

"No…" I grunted.

_He must think you're too weak to go with him._

"He said he's going to let me find out what's going _on_."

_You're plainly weak._

"No."

_You're not worth his time._

"No!"

_You're a disgrace to him as a daughter_.

"Fuck _off_!"

_If he cared he would have taken you with him._

"He cares! He…he…he _cares_!"

_He **doesn't** care about you, not anyone._

"Stop it, stop it, stop it…"

_Get up and stop being weak!_

_Leave her alone, she's thinking!_

_Why should she think when she knows deep down her **father **is selfish and wants to expose these imbeciles while leaving her down in the dumps?_

_She's just scared._

_She's not scared. She **can't** be scared._

_But if she escapes she could get killed!_

_So?!_

_Fight, you cowardly little **girl**._

_Don't listen!_

_Find him!_

_No, stop to think!_

I screamed.

_It's all a trick._

"NO!"

I soared from the bed, the notepad tumbling to the floor. I gasped and quickly grabbed it, before launching forward crashing my bodyweight onto the metal bars of the door of my cell.

_Trapped._

I'd done barely an ounce of exercise, but yet, I was breathing hard, and my heart was rapidly pounding faster, making my cold blood rush through me, until I could feel it all flushing in my head.

I did nothing but scream.

"Get me out of here! Get me out of here! _Now_!"

My knees began to anchor me to floor.

They wouldn't stop patronising me. The devious sneers began to suffocate my thoughts.

"_Get me out of here_!" I bellowed. I was quite literally now, down on my knees, pleading. "It's _too_ much! Tell them to shut up!" I screamed on. "Why am I still _here_?! I need to be _out there_! No! _No_! I'm _not_! I'm NOT! _HELLO_?! Get me out of here! I _need _to know!"

And then I just rattled the walls of the entire corridor, as my riotous scream flooded the entire room.

Nobody came.

I shrieked louder and louder until I couldn't hear myself scream anymore.

Couldn't they see I was having a _horrific _schizophrenic attack?

They were still causing a war inside my mind, refusing to stop the insults and curses.

It soon appeared I was burning in a scorching fire.

But I didn't cry. Crying couldn't get me anywhere anymore. I just wanted it to stop, or at least, be a joyous riot, where they would cheer and laugh with me.

They were laughing _at _me now.

They were so loud, I thought my skull would be fractured by the time it stopped. It felt like the demons were pounding through the bone of my skull, with their talons and bone-crunching spears to leap out and physically shout me down, like I _was _useless.

But I _know _I wasn't.

I was suffering on the floor, broken and helpless. My hand jammed me down to the floor, as did my knees.

Now, I've had a lot of attacks due to my schizophrenia, but this one, has by _far _been the worst I've ever had. I can't begin to describe to you what it did to me. It actually made me feel like I was hurdling towards my death, like I was burning in Hell, and the demons were sprinkling gasoline on my veins, making even a heartless woman like me, scream out in agony.

And nobody came to my rescue for what seemed like an eternity.

I'd never been more relieved at my time in Arkham, when someone, a tall and rugged male doctor, was opening up my cell with a key, and behind him, were two other doctors with a stretcher.

"Miss Price, please, calm down," he said, soothingly. "It's going to fine."

He knelt down an attempted to help me up.

"_No_!" I boomed. "Don't _touch _me!"

"I'm sorry, look, come on. We _need _to send you to a ward to calm you immediately."

"What _took _you so long, you bunch of heartless _bastards_?!"

"Come on, come on, it's okay."

"It's _NOT_!"

"Come _on_." He eventually pulled me up by my hand, not giving me a chance to flinch away. "It'll be okay."

"No, you don't get it!" I cried. "They're calling me _weak_! A disgrace, a weakling! They hate me! I need to get out of here! My _father_!"

"Yes, yes."

He cautiously motioned for me to lie on the stretcher, but I writhed crazily in his grasp.

"Let me _go_! I _have _to get out of here! Answers, I need answers!" The notepad, which I had left splattered on the floor of my cell, then caught my eye. "_Wait_!" I hollered. "My _notepad_! I _need that_! I _need _it!"

"Alright, alright, Sam, get the notepad," the doctor sighed, pulling me towards the stretcher. "You understand why we need to–"

"Yes, but…but I _need _to…to…I need to…I need to prove I'm _not _scared! Why is he there? I need answers! Let _go _of me!"

He gave up and swooped me off my feet, thumping me down on the stretcher. I screamed like a four year old having a temper tantrum. I attempted to kick them as they handcuffed me to the bed, to make sure I didn't run away. My notepad was thrown onto my chest, and the next thing I knew I was been rolled out of the corridor, bursting through the door into a new corridor.

"Where do we take her?" one of the doctors pushing me asked.

"Doctor Crane's old ward," was the answer. "It's now Doctor Leland's. It's ward sixteen, she'll know what to do. I have to get back to the investigation process, looking for Doctor Arkham."

"I'm not _ill_!" I shouted, seeing the ceiling swim quickly above me as we continued racing along the corridors. "Why are you taking me to a ward? I'm _fine_! I could have recovered _myself_! And you're _not _looking through this notepad! It's private! It's strictly between me and Doctor Sinner! It's even in my progression notes!"

"Alright, alright, girl, we get it. We're taking you there to recover from this panic attack."

"But I need to _go_!"

"You're just in a state, you'll be fine in a minute."

"No!"

I kept on yelling same phrases as we continued.

I was still in a whirlwind of mental chaos. The voices weren't about to stop, and the madness wasn't about to end.

You know what pure madness is like? It's like an emergency exit. It's a one-way ticket to cascade into crazy another situation, usually a _brighter _situation, but at the same time, you're still experiencing mental torture.

I prayed this would be the case, as we arrived in Doctor Leland's ward.

"Leland, this is patient 7758," the bossy doctor informed her, as soon as we entered. "She's had a…quite a…serious panic attack. She needs to be seen to immediately."

"Who is her doctor?"

"Sinner, I believe."

"Ah. Okay, put her over there, I'll see to it straight away."

"But I don't _need _seeing to!" I exclaimed, penetratingly loud. "I need to get _out_! I just wanna know what's going _on_! I need to prove I'm _not_ weak!"

"She's schizophrenic, isn't she?" Leland asked, as I was pushed into the corner of the room.

"Quite obviously."

"What do you mean, _obviously_?!" I demanded. "It's not something to _joke _about!"

"Okay, leave me to it," Leland said. "Go and check the progress of Harley Quinn in ward ten. She had a similar thing happen to her this morning at breakfast. Inform me later on."

The doctors immediately bustled out of the room.

My gleaming eyes of paranoia trailed towards Leland, who now stood above me. She looked curiously at the notepad, still lying on my chest.

I nearly barked like a dog when I saw her fingers dawdle towards it.

"Do _not _touch that," I snapped. "It's private stuff between me and Doctor Sinner."

"Why do you have it with you?"

"I don't go anywhere without it."

"I see. Well I'll have to put it at the side, until you're okay to leave, okay, dear?"

"_Don't _look in it!" I barked, as she removed it from my chest, and lay it on the small table beside me.

"I won't. If it is private between you and your doctor, then I shall have nothing to do with it. Now, Jane Price, is it?"

"Will I be allowed to leave soon?"

"I think the best thing to relax your mind is to soothe it. I may need to put you to sleep, if–"

"_No_! I need to go! My father is out there! Without _me_! Ugh, tell them to _shut up_!"

"Okay, Jane, try to relax a little for me. Calm down, now, dear. You're obviously suffering from a schizophrenic–"

"I know but you don't _get _it! I'm _not _ill! I'm _not_!"

I kept on insisting, but she began to ignore my hysteric state. Wide-eyed, I watched her plug some funny devices on either side of my head, which I'd never had before.

The walls of the room began to go blurry.

There was a sharp prick prodded into the side of my arm.

I grunted.

My breathing quickened, but my words were hushed in an instant.

The light-headedness began to consume through every part of my shaking body, and very soon, I was sleeping.

Butterflies were swimming in my stomach when my eyes closed and everything went quiet around me.

Everything silenced inside my head.

It can't describe to you how soothing it feels, to feel like you are floating on a pink cloud, silhouetted against a calm sunset, just after you've seen nothing but the fiery pits of Hell right before your eyes. It feels like I was being given a taste of Heaven, because I would never see it in the afterlife.

I don't know what Doctor Leland did to me, but whatever drugs she injected into me, and whatever was attached to my head, it made me nestle into a long, long slumber.

I couldn't believe it, but I was actually disappointed when I awoke.

My eyes fluttered open, to see the same ceiling above me, the same table next to me, with my notepad still laying in the same position.

With a tiny groan, I attempted to sit up, but was forced to be crashed back onto the bed, as I was still being restrained by the handcuffs strapping me to the stretcher. I groaned again, this time, a more frustrated grunt.

I sighed heavily, unable to see past my own feet that were poking upwards. Looking at my sides, I could see nothing but a large window on my left, and a bland wall on my right. I couldn't even see the door because of the handcuffs weighing me down to the bed.

"Hello?" I called.

"Hello."

My heart missed a beat.

"Who is it?" I hissed, struggling to sit up again.

Nobody answered. I then thought it must have been my auditory hallucinations cranking up again, until I heard my left handcuff rattle.

I gasped and snapped my head upwards, to see none other than Doctor Crane, who was now beginning to rescue me, by unlocking my handcuffs. I almost vomited with shock. He was now wearing a suit and tie, with his glasses rimming his nose. Crane smirked down at me, greeting me with his usual calm presence.

My mouth gaped open and shut sharply over and over, like a goldfish. I stuttered in confusion, frowning at Doctor Crane, who now had completely released me, and disposed of the two handcuffs.

"Sit up, you're alright now," he whispered.

It was only then I noticed the room was dim. Then ceiling lights weren't even on. The only light that sparked up the room, was a lampshade I didn't notice the before, which was placed on the opposite end of the room, on another side table.

In fact, _everything _was now as blank as my expressions during therapy. There were no bustling doctors pacing hurriedly back and forth through the window. The corridors were black.

The atmosphere had been shot in the head and had died when I fell asleep.

I _must've _been still dreaming.

With my free hands, I aggressively rubbed my eyes, as exaggerated as a cartoon character would.

But everything was still like a tomb when I re-opened my orbs and saw the nothingness around me.

As I went to look back at Crane, who by now was pacing around my stretcher, from the corner of my eye I saw a body.

I blinked hard to make sure I wasn't hallucinating again.

But no, I really _did _see a body.

Not just any motionless body, but it was none other than Doctor Leland, collapsed, face down, by the door.

"God," I said, softly.

"What?" Crane piped up, now standing before me. He looked over his shoulder. "Oh her." He shrugged. "You understand why I was annoyed with her. This is _my _ward, not hers. She should have remembered I knew the code to get in here." He bent down and lifted a simple, brown briefcase, sighing happily at me.

Although I found myself smiling, I was still completely baffled.

"What's going on?" I wanted to know.

"What does it look like?" Crane said.

"Well…uh, I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"You _are _forgetful, aren't you? Must've have been the sleeping drug. I'm glad you've come around now, at last. Any longer, I would've had to awaken you myself. That may not have been pretty."

"W-Why? What…what's happening? How are you…?"

"You had such a _horrific_ panic attack."

"Yes, I know _that _part, but how in God's name did _you_ get in here?!"

"This is my ward."

"But why aren't you in your normal orange scruffs?"

"This is my work outfit. I'm in work."

"But how–"

"Didn't you read the letter from your father?"

"Yes. Several times."

"And what did that tell you?"

"That he's…escaped. _Without _me."

"Well, don't you want to go and see him?"

I stared at him. For reasons unknown to me, I was still smiling at him. Not smiling out of happiness, but it was a curious smile. I was used to Crane explaining his devious ways to me by now, and every time it had been entertaining.

"How do you know where he is?" I questioned, cocking my head to the side in wonder.

"He told me where he was going. Two days ago."

"But how did you get in here without being seen?"

Doctor Crane laughed, lightly.

"Your father was right," he said, with perfect diction, making him sound my haunting than usual. "You _are _too paranoid. You do worry too much, sweetheart."

"It's not _my _fault I'm a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, is it?"

"Oh no, but…I must thank your demons right now." He patted my head, still smiling in that creepy way. "If they hadn't decided to punish you so badly, you wouldn't have been escorted to _my _ward for an emergency therapy. Far more convenient for me, instead of coming to collect you from your cell tonight, and having to waste my time with the keys. Much more convenient, you being here. So I thank your demons for that."

"You don't thank the demons for _anything_."

"I'm glad Doctor Leland gave you what seemed a powerful sleeping drug." He began to stride around the room again, and my eyes followed his evry step. His mannerisms and intelligence deeply fascinated me. He was cold-hearted, but pleasant. Even I know that is a _dangerous _mix. But, danger is fun, remember? "You see, otherwise you would have woken up too soon and I wouldn't have been here to take you out straight away," Crane explained.

"What's happened to her?" I asked, ridiculing at her unmoving body.

"Oh uh…" The doctor displayed his briefcase to me, lifting it aloft and shaking it about. "This. I gave her a concentrated dose. She won't last much longer. Shame you were asleep when I did it."

"Oh, you gave her some of that fear gas of yours?"

"Correct, sweetie. All locked up in here, safe." Crane tapped the case, filled with disturbing enthusiasm. "For my hands only."

"Wait….you've…you've given it to _everyone _in the asylum now, haven't you?"

"Oh no. No, no, no. Just a few." Crane darted his head towards the door again. "We are nearer the exit now we're here. We can be out in no time. I'm so thankful you caused such a racket. But then again, that's what you and your father do best, isn't it? Causing nothing but a commotion. Things would have been a lot trickier if you were still suffering in your cell. But no matter. You're awake now."

"I'm not so sure I am."

"Do you want to go and visit your father?"

"I'm guessing he's got Doctor Arkham and Doctor Sinner with him?"

"He's a very intelligent human being. I am certain that he would have fulfilled his purpose by _now_. That's what he said his purpose was in the letter, am I correct?"

"Well, yes. But…why did he go without me?"

"That, I don't know. You can ask him that when we see him. Now, lie down, again. I'll escort you out."

"What?"

"Trust me."

"But…Jonathan…"

"Call me Doctor Crane. I _am_…a doctor."

"Look, what have you done? I know you've helped him escape. How did you do it?"

"Interested, are we?"

"Yes!"

"Remember what the letter said."

I perked up when I remembered the letter was still jammed in my notepad, and it was merely inches away from where I was sitting. I escaped an enormous sigh of relief as I remembered, and quickly wriggled over to the edge, where I reached over and quickly snatched it. I flicked the pages until I found it, scrunched up at the very back.

"Here," I said, as I found it. "_All you should know that was involved was: toxin, disguises, fake cops, a lot of brains and no brawn_," I read, carefully. "_And video evidence. And a lot of idiocy. Not on my part. You know that. All you should know right now, is that someone will pay a visit to your cell tonight, with a key, and before you know it, you'll see me shortly afterwards._"

"There's your answer," Crane said.

"Toxins…" I rattled my brain. "That's obviously your fear gas? And Ivy's memory eraser. Right?" Crane nodded. "And disguises?" I gazed at him, my eyebrows furrowed. He said nothing, just gazing at me back. "Fake cops," I continued.

"Exactly."

"I didn't fully understand that."

"What is there to understand?"

"So…the cops patrolling the asylum…are not real cops?"

"Not all of them."

"What?!"

"You father, say…negotiated with a few men during fresh air hours, over the past few days. A few _sneaky_ men, that is."

"But how did they–?!"

"He _knew _the disappearance of Arkham _and _Sinner would distract the staff, and so therefore, they managed to take the places of some of the cops working for Gordon. Some are now dead, others intoxicated, others knocked out. And they won't be knocked out for much longer, so we best move."

"This all sounds very odd," I chuckled. "So you're telling me, that some inmates managed to escape last night, without being caught, then disguised themselves as cops somehow, making everyone believe they were genuine, did whatever to the _real _cops, so then you and Ivy could intoxicate whoever, so they couldn't stand up, and _then_ you could get me out of here. Didn't anyone catch this on security camera?"

"Oh, that's been overtaken by an inmate, also."

"What about Gordon?"

"Gordon? Ah, he probably doesn't even know what's going on. He's too busy looking for your father and the psychiatrists. He's always focused on one thing at a time, that man. None of the other cops can let him know, can they?"

"I guess not."

"Now, sweetie, I think I'd like to put you out of your misery. Would you like to go and see your father?"

"When did this all take place? Because everything was _normal _this morning."

"Not _everything_, Jane. Most of the _real _exciting moments happened while you were asleep."

"I can't believe it."

"Fear is powerful, Jane. It can take over even the most courageous of men. It just matters on what is shown. Everyone has a fear."

"_I_ don't."

"Hmm. We'll see."

"This…fear gas…of yours?"

"Yes?"

"Is it capable of killing someone?"

"Oh, well…I gave a lot of the guards and staff around here concentrated doses. They're so caught up in their fear right as we speak, it will eventually lead them towards their own death."

I made Doctor Crane jump when I exploded into roaring laughter, pointing and jumping up and down on the stretcher, filled with callous excitement.

"You sneaky bastard!" I chortled. "I can't believe you managed it!"

"It took all day, and a lot of gas, but all the patients here…we stick up for each other, right?"

"Right!"

"I got some voluntary help!"

"Ha! No _way_!"

"None were quick enough to call for help."

"Unbelievable!"

Crane then carefully leaned forward on the bed, until he was leaning in towards me. He became so close to my face, which his hot breath blew against my face. I could even see myself grinning inside his own eyes.

I didn't move.

I was still in awe of how crazy he actually was. I had no idea.

"I thought you would have cracked the code from the letter," Crane said, quietly. "I would have thought you would have been _so _eager to rush out and visit your father straight away. Well, now everyone is holding their last breath and being under control by your kind, now it's safe to go. Would you like to go?"

"I would."

"Take this."

Crane dug in his pocket, and flipped out a playing card.

I gasped in pure delight, brushing my hair over my ear, happily.

"What's that?" I squealed.

"He told me to give it to you," Crane explained. "It's your get out of jail free card."

I laughed as I took the card between my fingers, where I realised it was no ordinary playing card. It has my joyous devil laughing design planted on it, but as I spun it over, I noticed it was a swipe card used to open some security doors for the asylum. I shrieked into loud laughter again.

What pure genius.

"Thank you!" I squeaked.

"We can't get out without it, can we?" Crane asked, rhetorically.

"Oh, just one more thing," I said.

"What's that?"

"I…I didn't crack the code from the letter, or understood plainly what was happening because…because of my…mind…basically. It…i-it kept on saying these things and making me question why he just escaped without me when he promised we'd escape together. It…didn't end well."

"Ah, I see."

"Terrible thing, what I have, you know."

"Oh, I _know_."

"So you understand now?"

"Perfectly."

"The whole thing still sounds _crazy_! It doesn't sound possible."

"There's thousands of patients. There's about fifty odd staff. Who do you think would have the upper hand in that situation, particularly if they'd smuggled in their own weapons?"

I paused, as I let that thought sink in. I couldn't help but laugh again.

"I guess you're right. Just can't believe nobody's found out."

"It doesn't matter now. Lie down. I'll give your legs more rest and wheel you to the exit."

I landed my petite build flat onto the stretcher, exhaling a relaxed breath. I found the letter, placing it neatly back into my notepad and pulling it close to my chest, praying that Leland hadn't looked through it. After all, I wasn't going to lose the pages of my story. Neither was I about to show it to anyone. Not at that point, anyway.

The get out of jail free card was clutched into my right hand, and my left one clawed onto the sheets of the bed. They were now shuddering with the adrenaline that was beginning to flood through my veins. My teeth were gritted as I cackled through them. I felt Crane sweep past me, as he took his place behind the stretcher, prepared to push me.

I thought he would begin to push me to the exit at a casual speed, but I squealed loudly when the stretcher was pushed towards the door by Crane at a great force.

Soon, we were hurtling through the corridors.

This rush only made my adrenaline begin to scrape even harsher on my brain. I threw my head back, burying it as deep as I could into the pillow, gaping up in amusement at the ceiling flying by. My howling laughter, which sounded like the laughter of the true lunatic I knew I was, echoed beautifully as we flew through hallway after hallway, Crane knowing the security code for each and every one of them.

Through some of the corridors we past, there were a series of weak bodies squirming on the floor, each one a member of staff. Luckily, there was a doctor experiencing this, right by a door we stopped at. As Crane dialled the code, I peeked over to see his expression. His jaw was dropped, his eyelids appearing to be jammed at the top, and his body was mangled, writhing on the floor on what appeared to be silent agony.

Crane stopped.

"Notice how it stops everything in your path?" he said, darkly. I nodded up at him. "That's the beauty of fear. Can strike into the hearts of anyone, and can scar them for life."

"Look what happened to my father," I sighed. "And he even has the scars to prove it."

Without answering, Crane burst me through the door and we were soon off again.

About a minute later, the door to reception loomed above us.

"Time to use your card," Crane instructed.

I keenly leaned over and bleeped my card onto the device.

The door swung open for us immediately. I was dementedly pleased to see the receptionist, passed out, _dead_, while guards around had seemed to be intoxicated with Ivy's memory eraser. They had that pale face of forgetfulness _even _as they slept.

Crane pushed me out of the door, into the parking lot of the asylum.

We stopped.

His hand beckoned me, as he showed it to me.

"Princess Jane?" he asked for me, charmingly.

"Good sir," I giggled.

"We'll take Ivy's van, shall we?" he suggested.

"What's that doing here?"

"I'm not sure. But she gave me the keys." Crane rummaged through his pockets, to reveal a green key (of course), which he rattled in front of my face. "See?"

"Let's go," I sighed, taking his hand. I finally jumped down from the bed, and he guided me towards Ivy's van, parked in very back corner of the parking lot. "I need to have a word with The Joker," I said, as Crane unlocked the van.

"What about?" he asked.

"Oh, _he _should know."

I climbed into the passenger seat, as Crane placed his beloved briefcase, filled with fear toxin, in the back seat. He soon joined me, taking his place at the driver's seat, and roaring the engine.

But before the handbrake could be put down, his Scarecrow mask was thrown onto his face. It slowly turned around to face me, but I just smiled.

"Keep an eye out for him," he the warned.

"Who?" I asked.

"_The Batman_," he prolonged.

"Oh, he won't be coming for me any time soon," I chuckled. "I think he's given up now."

"Look out for the commissioner then. No doubt he'll return here soon to inform the bad news and he'll discover my wonderful concoctions."

And then we began the journey.

It was a huge relief to have Crane in on this conspiracy, as he was a former psychiatrist at Arkham he knew every code and every inch of the place inside out. He would also understand what The Joker and I have to put up with day in. day out.

Although, I was starting to believe he was just as crazy as The Joker. When he spoke, particularly about his fear gas, his voice was slimy and untrustworthy, and as handsome as he was, to anyone it was a face that you couldn't trust, especially with that snakelike smirk of his.

Within ten minutes, we were out of the Arkham gates, and into Arkham Road itself, where to my astonishment, was completely empty. I suppose people had decided to lock themselves in their houses because The Joker had escaped and could be anywhere, but seriously, was _everyone that _cowardly? It's just degrading.

My window was down, but I knew it wouldn't be wise to stick my head out and holler wildly this time, as I would be spotted in an instant by a bystander. Luckily, Crane was driving so quickly that no citizen walking by on the sidewalk wouldn't get a chance to glance at who was in the driver's seat. Feeling the breeze bash into my face, I knew it would cause my adrenaline to rise, which was the reason I did it.

As Crane passed onto the motorway, out of Cicero, I noticed he didn't turn off into any other sub-part of Gotham the entire time, and just continued whizzing the van in a straight line.

I stared at him in wonder, with wrinkled eyebrows for this entire time. He did not say a word, focusing purely on the road.

That was, until we finally indicated to pull away, into the next motorway, where above it was a gigantic green sign, with arrows pointing downwards, with large white letters reading 'GOTHAM TOWN.'

My face beamed a brightly as the moon watching us.

"Are we going to Gotham Town?!" I stupidly gasped at Crane.

"We are," he answered, simply.

"Why?!" I cried.

"We're going to Doctor Sinner's home."

"She lives in Gotham Town?!"

"Yes. Didn't she tell you?"

"No!" I squealed, bouncing on my seat like a pogo stick was underneath it. "Oh my _god_! This is where I grew up!"

"I believe so."

"Have you ever been here?"

"A few times."

"Well no _wonder _they can't find him! He's in the town, not the city! But…" My smile vanished. "But…but wouldn't they have searched for Doctor Sinner in her home? Wouldn't they have found him?"

"Good question. Maybe you should ask him that when we arrive at her address."

We continued our journey, until the van braked harshly when we finally entered the town itself.

I gazed out of the window, grinning at every building we went past. Every school, café, office, flats. I even remember what trees were coming up in the next road! We skidded past Little Hill Elementary, where I burst out into cackles at its bleakness.

Oh, how I'd missed Gotham Town. Oh, how I'd missed the pathetic ways of it trying to be a decent hometown.

We continued, until Crane turned down a street I didn't recognise. It had a series of houses that looked far too grand for a poor town like this one. Each was completed with a neat hedge and a beautiful flowery front garden. It was like it was a different place.

I was so besotted with the road, I was shocked when the van came to a stop.

"We're here," Scarecrow announced, instantly leaping out of the van, after switching it off.

Before us, was a large house, which looked completely different to any other one on that road. It looked posh, but at the same time, was rusty, and I could tell by looking at the windows, the inside would be shabby and unpleasant. It had three floors, but a roof that seemed to be hanging by a thread.

I followed Scarecrow out, taking my notepad and slamming the door behind me. Together, we slowly approached the front door.

We both stood stiff in front of it, exchanging glances from one another.

"Go inside," Scarecrow hissed.

"No, you," I insisted.

"Are you scared?"

"No! No, just…the nostalgia's hit me too much."

"He's in there, you know. All you have to do is knock."

"I know, I'm not stupid."

I knocked on the door, in a rhythmical beat.

I stood back, and awaited for the reunion.

We both jumped when the door was snapped open quickly and thumped against the wall.

The Joker, now dressed in his classic attire, and with his unevenly applied makeup, stood before us, his shoulders hunched, his eyes trailing us up and down, and of course, his face expressing zero emotion. In his hand, he gripped onto a video camera.

"Hello, there," he greeted, blankly. I wasn't really sure what to say, so remained quiet. Joker's eyes pinned onto Scarecrow, where he suddenly looked displeased, and frowned, almost looking confused as to why he was there. "Didn't think you'd drive here _all the way_?"

"The poor girl suffered quite a nasty mental attack," Scarecrow explained. "I thought I would give her the benefit of the doubt and drive her all the way. Give her a fun journey."

"Aw, suffered a little mental attack, did you, my girl?" he asked me, in a mocking baby voice.

"He's being modest," I said. "I'm fine really."

"Shame," Joker said, licking his red lips.

"What?" I spluttered.

"Find another car to pay ya visit to Blackgate, Crane," Joker ordered him. "I wanna use that van later."

"Of course," Scarecrow replied.

"And you, you can come inside," Joker said to me. "We, uh…we have some business to deal with. Some very mentally challenging business. I also wanna chat with ya first."

Without saying a word, I stepped into the house. The Joker bashed the door shut after me, right onto Scarecrow's face.

I gazed around the hallway of Doctor Sinner's home, which was amazingly gothic, even having a beautiful chandelier dangling on the ceiling. I stroked my hand on the gorgeous burgundy wallpaper, patterned with daisy chains, as I watched Joker storm into the first room on the right. I had the sense to follow him straight away.

As soon as I was into the room, which turned out to be huge, expensive kitchen, he slammed and locked the door behind us. Wasting no time, he made his way over to the table, scraping the chair back, and dragging it to the middle of the room, where he slammed it down onto the floor.

Then, he stood behind it. All he did was keep one gloved hand on the back of the chair, and he gave me that sociopathic stare again, bearing his orbs into the depths of my own.

I shuddered.

"I…I didn't know Doctor Sinner lived in Gotham Town," I said, after a long silence.

"This isn't _her _home," The Joker said. "It's her parents'."

"Oh…right. Okay. How did you know where she would be?"

"Jerry told me. He told me, when I paid a visit to his home, early hours this morning, ya know…to _negotiate _with 'im, that this is where she headed _every _morning before she came to work at the asylum. I found her…_crying_ in her room like a total _wacko_ when I arrived here. Obviously Doctor Crane knew this, too. Why else would he drive you here? Clever man, that Crane."

"He's also pretty creepy."

"He's just a bit odd, but compared to us, he's like the average guy, huh?"

"You're right there."

We shared the same chuckle.

"Sit down," he then instructed. I scooted over to the chair and propped myself on it. I held my notepad close to me, protectively, like it was my precious new-born. The Joker circled around me, and I didn't dare look away from him. "You, uh…understand why we're here, PJ?" he interrogated, licking his scars.

"Oh, I know what you've done," I replied.

"Did Crane give you my letter?"

"Yes. Or rather, your tale of The Black Joker."

"I told ya it was a true story."

"Well, if _that's _the case, you have Doctor Arkham and Doctor Sinner hostage, and somehow managed to form the most bizarre escape root, stole Doctor Arkham's camera and recorded a secret conversation, all without being caught. Plus you got Crane and that lot to help you intoxicate _everyone _in there who wasn't a prisoner so they couldn't get in contact with Gordon and that's why nobody knows what happens and most of the cops patrolling the place are hired thugs by you."

"That's…_very_ good. _Very_ good indeed. Exactly correct."

"But on paper, it seems like it would _never _be possible to get away with."

"Anything's possible, Janey. You know what they say, just gotta have the _drive_ an' _belief_, and you can achieve it."

"Well I was on conscious when it all happened."

"Aw."

The Joker was now in front of me, and knelt down, so he gleamed his large, brown, puppy eyes up at me. His free gloved hand affectionately rubbed my knee. I remained mute, attempting to remain as plain as I could, even though I could feel my heart trying to rip out of my ribcage. It was so loud I could feel it pound through my ears, and the pulse throbbed on my wrists.

"I had the…the worst mind-attack you could imagine," I explained.

"I _can _imagine," he said. His blank voice made me start to shiver.

"I just…it just seems like a blur now."

"Why did you allow your mind to punish you?"

"I…I didn't."

"You said it was a mind-attack."

"Well…it was, but we both have them all the time."

"I'm guessing you had-uh…be drugged?"

"Yes."

"Such a shame. I _was_…hoping for you to witness it all."

"I guess I was just overwhelmed with the letter you wrote me. It was just a…bit…unexpected."

"But you liked it? Hmm?"

"Oh, I _did_."

"I bet you were…huh…excited for the events, hmm?"

"Why did you escape without me?" He wordlessly responded, by furrowing his eyebrows. "Why didn't you tell me all this was gonna happen?" I questioned. "I would've helped you. You _know _I would. You said we were gonna get out of there _together_."

"Hey, hey, hey…I wanted to give you a _surprise_!" he chortled. "Plus, I needed you to carry on with your exposure of Doctor Sinner's mind control. It appears…" His laughter rumbled, until it finally exploded into a fit of giggles. "It appears you've done _perfectly_! Ya see, doctors…they have a mind that is too choked up with information, medical, personal, et cetera…that sometimes, well…it gets all _too much_! Their therapy is all about creating a…emotional response. They do it by talking, by writing, painting…all kinds of things? But if _I _was a doctor, you know what I'd do? I'd make the patient _re-enact _their _emotional_ moments in their life. If a patient had a moment where he was running away from a hit-man and _screaming _for help…I'd have to run around the room with a mask on. _That _would be create a _much _more emotive and…_fun_ response that just _talking _about it. Actions speak louder than words." He then lifted up the video camera. "And on here…you know what's on here, right?"

"That secret recording you managed to film?"

"I think of it more as…an experiment. All of our work _has _to pay off, don't it? Have a listen. This was, ah…three days ago now. I think you may be quite surprised with the result. I've spent a long time editing the _long _silences of the start an' the end with Jerry's…_fancy _camera. Take a look for yourself. It's the absolute perfect showcase of a woman's emotional status being dominant, and the men being _completely _clueless about how to make her _smile _again."

He shoved the camera, quite aggressively, onto my lap, abruptly rising to his feet. His coat swept by me as he sauntered over to the cupboards of the kitchen, and began to rummage his way through them.

"Is this of them two talking and saying a lot a dumb thing?" I asked him, with a laugh, as I turned on the camera and selected playback.

"Just watch it," Joker sighed, now munching his way through some mini cookies left out on the side. "I'll just…amuse myself. And because I'm helpful, Jane, I put it in the right place for you."

With that, I just pressed play, pressing down on the volume button, so it was the loudest it could possibly be.

It simply showed a black screen. The camera had obviously been place behind somewhere extremely sneaky.

For about a minute and a half, all that could be heard was a baritone cough and spluttering.

"Doctor Arkham?" I questioned, pointing.

The Joker nodded, still nibbling away on the tempting miniature cookies.

I continued listening very carefully, but still, there was no sign of conversation.

"I'll edit this silence out later," Joker told me.

Finally, the creak of his office door was heard.

_'Jerry?'_

_I knew immediately it was Doctor Sinner's silky voice, and as ever, having that wobbly tinge of nervousness to it._

_'Alyce,' Doctor Arkham was heard answering. 'Is something wrong?'_

_'I need to talk to you,' she said._

_'Of course, darling, come in.'_

"Darling?!" I pulled back my laughter, keeping it trapped by covering my mouth. "Did he just call her darling?"

"Listen," The Joker simply said.

_'It's about the money,' Doctor Sinner said. _

_'Alyce, we can't keep discussing this,' he said, disappointedly. 'You know I can't raise your salary. It's not up to me, sweetheart.'_

_'Jerry, what I get is nothing,' she snapped. 'Not nearly enough for what I need to care for my parents, do you know how sick they are right now?!'_

_'Yes, I know…'_

_'My father is drinking too much, he doesn't even know who he is half the time, and you know my mother has amnesia!'_

_'Alyce, calm down, now…look, I want to help you so badly, but those bastards at the DA's office…you know what they're like. They won't let, as much as I really want to–'_

_'I swear my mother is going crazy. She keeps asking me why isn't she dead yet. Do you realise how hard that is?!'_

_'Oh, Alyce…'_

_'And working with Jane Price isn't helping either because she's a nightmare to work with, always asking about them.'_

_'You said you were making progress.'_

_'We were, until recently. I just think there's too much on my mind. It's driving me crazy.'_

At that moment, my eyes widened with joy, as did my jaw.

_'Maybe it'll be a good idea to have a few days off…' Doctor Arkham began to suggest._

_'No! You know what happened last time I was allowed a day off! I broke down! I can't let it happen again, Jerry. I can't…not since what happened to Henry's been playing on my mind…'_

_'That was an accident.'_

_'I'll never get over it.'_

_'Alyce…'_

_'I'm lucky my parents still don't know about it! They would have long disowned me otherwise!'_

_'I know you didn't. You had a lot on your mind about their health then, when that happened.'_

_'But what if I do it again?'_

_'What?'_

_'This is exactly how I felt days before I killed Henry. I'm just paranoid, aren't I? Why is it coming back to me all of a sudden?'_

I gasped.

_'Alyce, shh…don't say that in here!' Arkham hissed. His chair scraped backwards and I heard his footsteps. I presumed he now walked up to her. 'Don't think it about it. You have to focus on what's happening now, and what you're doing now is an excellent job on treating a young, complicated patient. You shouldn't be feeling this way and letting that feeling come back to haunt you.'_

_'I just feel so hopeless.'_

_'Oh, sweetheart…come here.' There was a pause as I just heard Sinner quietly whimper. 'Look, what happened to Henry is in the past–'_

_'But Jerry, I can't stop thinking about it ever since I visited his grave a week ago, when Jane told me it would be a good idea. And I need to stop. It's going to dominate everything if I don't, along with worrying about my parents.'_

_'Okay, look at me. I promise you, I'll do everything I can to increase your salary, okay? I'll do everything in my power. Because I want this for you. You need it. You can't be feeling so depressed like this, it'll have an effect on your work. I wonder why it's coming back to haunt you now?'_

_'Probably because Jane won't stop asking me about him. And I know I shouldn't tell her, but I do. I'm trying my best with her, but everything about my parents is just on my mind right now.'_

_'That's why you need some time off.'_

_'I can't. I can't give up on treating her. This job is my life. I'm not taking a break just because she decides to make me feel this way.'_

_'Obviously, The Joker influences her ways. I'll have a word with him during tomorrow's session. Now. You go home, get some rest. Forget about everything. Okay? You don't need to think about Henry…you've got me, haven't you?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'And I'm always here.'_

_'I know.'_

Because the audio was slightly shaky, I couldn't make out if I heard a kissing noise right there, but I _swear_, I heard a kissing noise right there.

"Oh my goodness…" I laughed.

_'You promise me to get some rest?' Arkham asked, sweetly._

_'You promise me to try and get that money for me?' Sinner said, sounding almost threatening._

_'I promise you. I absolutely promise you.'_

_'Okay.'_

_'Have you had your therapy session today?'_

_'Yes. It was this afternoon.'_

_'Good. I'll look at your progression notes now. Now, go home.'_

_'I will.'_

_'And stop worrying.'_

_She giggled. 'I'll try.'_

There was a pause, filled with nothing but affectionate chuckles. Was that a moment of romantic embrace?

Suddenly, the tape stopped.

"Huh?" I began to fiddle pointlessly with the camera, attempting to find a non-existent button to show what happened next.

The Joker's laughter grew more deafening as he came up behind me. He knelt beside me, resting his chin on my right shoulder, peering over it.

"I, uh…I edited the last part out…" he chuckled. "It's, ah…far too explicit for GCN."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Didn't ya know I was gonna send this to GCN?"

"No, no…I…well, I didn't know that but, I meant…what you mean by _too explicit_?!"

"Hmm. You _sure _you wanna know?"

"They didn't…?" The Joker simply raised his eyebrows, awkwardly. "You mean, they…?"

"Didn't I mention in the letter that the tape showed a lot of erotic noises?"

I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Yes…" I said, remembering.

"Well, that's your answer, Jane."

A million pictures resembling this suddenly bulleting my head, caused me to shake it wildly to get the awkward pictures out of my mind, of what I _thought _The Joker was talking about.

I mean, surely he meant what I was thinking, right?

"But…isn't Doctor Arkham married?" I asked him, remembering Doctor Sinner had mentioned it before.

"Mm-hmm. I've seen a picture of her. She's not an oil painting."

That's when I finally allowed myself to laugh just as maniacally as he did. I laughed hard, my stomach aching. The Joker had to catch the camera in one hand, as my weak hand allowed it to slip from my fingers. I was vomiting my laughter onto the floor.

_You've won._

_You maniac._

_She's a complete lunatic. Just like you._

They cheered.

I couldn't quite believe what I'd heard.

Doctor Sinner's voice had sounded so weak and tiny. She sounded like a little child, crying out for her mommy. Her frantic attempt to crave attention was blatant, it was almost most pathetic how much she wanted his attention. She _always _did. She sounded like I had when I was in the stages of depression, and recalling a memory of my father. Women always spill the beans of everything in one go, but this was an awful lot to lay on Arkham's shoulders.

It was clear she was losing her mind.

And as for who Henry was, well that was obvious. It was her husband who died a few years ago. She'd never told me his name, but she'd stupidly made it so obvious it was almost hilarious.

And she _killed_ him, the slimy little bitch!

_She's a maniac! _one of them hollered, as I cackled at the thought.

But oddly, at the same time, there was the usual fake edge to her voice, particularly when she said 'You promise me to try and get that money for me?'

Doctor Arkham sounded like his normal friendly self, but you could also tell he sounded majorly concerned in his voice.

It was unbelievable.

As I laughed, they began to rise up from the flames and praise frantically.

I truly felt twisted, like I was truly pleased that I was manipulating with someone's mind.

Because I was.

You can think what you want, but now listening to the outcome of my work, it was an incredible feeling. I didn't even see her expression, or the glint of frustration in her eyes, I just simply heard her voice, and just from that I knew it was enough.

The Joker knew it, too. I could tell by his face. He looked unbelievably smug.

"Okay, now, calm yourself," he snickered, sounding like dad. I wiped a happy tear away from underneath my eye.

"I can't believe it!" I shrieked.

"You _better_. And don't worry, we're gonna add our own ending to the video, and then I'll post it in to GCN."

"What we gonna do?" I gasped, in pure delight.

"We're gonna prove that _they _are the loonies, _not _us. We have _too _much evidence up our sleeves now. And Gotham can believe what they want, but we know the truth. You're gonna help me. There's no running away now."

"Why would I?"

"Well, why do you, uh…torture, kill, manipulate…what's your purpose been for it, up to now?"

"Uh…"

"What did you set out to do…the very first time? Hmm? You remember?"

"To get revenge."

"That's old school. You gotta move to the next grade now. Revenge is a cliché, pretty face. It's what, uh…it's what _typical _criminals do. You know, like…_Jack _did? Yeah? They either kill out of revenge, or because…their emotions get tangled up and they don't know what option to take anymore. That's probably what happened to Doctor Sinner and her husband. But, you see…when _I _kill…it's not for either of those things. I kill because…I find it highly amusing. Just seeing that last sparkle of life go…it's entertaining. Don't you think?"

I nodded.

"You're _so _right."

"Course I am. So, uh…I want _you_…to be able to feel that. And therefore, by exposing your _true _doctor for what she is today…I hope you can achieve that."

"So…I get to kill her?"

"Oh _no_. We'll just, uh…give 'em a few beatings. That's all it takes for a human to break into lunacy. This'll be that bad day. Just you wait an' see. And don't question it. Just follow what daddy says, and it'll run very smoothly." He knelt down again. He continued to stare at me. He licked his lips, before smiling a little, when he saw me begin to show him a huge, hungry grin. "Clear?" he asked.

"Clear," I confirmed.

My trembling fingers gripped around the edges of my chair. I licked my own lips.

"Willing to learn from your parent, huh?"

"Always, father," I said, brightly. "And you're right. Revenge _is _boring. It's been _so long_ since I've tasted action."

"Let's get started then, shall we, daughter?"

"I think we should."

"You…go and have a little explore upstairs while I get started with them two in there, okay? You may find some…interesting things. Join me soon, though, otherwise…I won't be very happy."

We both shared a devious grin, which were identical to one another's, before he threw my notepad, laying on my knee, over the table, and guided me towards the door. As he unlocked it, I jigged from foot to foot, giggling in twisted excitement.

The door flew open, and I was off, gliding like an eagle through the hallway at full speed, with the demons escorting my every move. I screeched as my excitement became riotous, kicking random objects lying about and spinning around crazily in a circle.

The Joker eventually pushed me towards the stairs with an enormous force, so I began to make my way before I did the worst thing possible and made him angry.

I wandered up the heavy stairs, where three brand new rooms were present to me. The one in front of me, which was her bedroom, had its door spread open for me, almost as if it were welcoming me into Doctor Sinner's parents' home.

I stepped in, silently, noticing immediately the room was littered with distress. The bed covers were distorted messily, the mattress drooping down onto the floor. Her bin was knocked over, causing trash to be scattered all over her carpet. My foot crunched down on a Coca Cola can, suffocating it. I giggled as I took another closer look, gazing at her disorganised desk of a relentless pile of books and stationery. Clothes had been thrown everywhere, one bra even hanging loosely from a picture on the wall, a picture of what looked like her and her husband. She even looked miserable there.

"God, she's had a bad day," I muttered under my breath.

I walked closer to her bed to investigate out of my own outrageous curiousness. I pulled the covers, where a small green book was revealed underneath. I burst into mocking laughter when I picked it up and saw that it was a carelessly left out diary.

I couldn't help but help myself to her bed. I snuggled underneath the covers, enjoying the comfort of a real bed for a change, and began to read.

Uninterested in the first pages, I skipped straight to January 31st, the day where she revealed to me her father was deathly ill. It was almost impossible not to hear Doctor Sinner's voice leap from the page as I began to read:

_'It's only 7pm and it feels like the day has been the longest of my life. My session with Jane Price was reasonably good, but only until we got off the subject of her father and discussed her environmental therapy. I'm convinced The Joker is her father, and I am even more now she refused to answer me. If he wasn't, she would deny it, but she didn't. Jerry believes the same thing. I lost my patience with her months back, but now it's unbearable to talk to her. Jerry has promised me Director for two years now and I haven't gotten anywhere. Price is particularly hard to treat, and the only treatment which has been affective has been her art therapy. It's going to be years. I keep praying to God, but even He has disowned me. Father has warned me I'll go to Hell if I don't work hard, but this job has been my life for ten years, and all that's happened to me is pure punishment. I know God will never forgive my treatment of Henry. I regret what I did, of course, but all souls are forgiven. Only He will decide my fate. Price isn't exactly helping to fulfil my goals to help mother and father get better. I say it every day, she is completely insane, but is treatable. For Jerry's sake, I will find out the truth about Jane's paternity. I shall now sleep, ready to visit mother and father tomorrow before work. I ask God to make it go well and for them not to show their wrath towards my ways.' _

"Hmm," I muttered. "She didn't harm her husband, eh? Such a _liar_! Huh, she really _is_ arrogant and obnoxious. _And_ she's crazy too. She's more breakable than I thought."

I turned over the page, to that day's events, February 1st, at 4am, where there was nothing more than five lines, scribbled in large capital letters onto the shabby paper.

_'It's over. Father is dead. Mother is dead. I can't bare it. God have mercy on my soul.'_

I stared at this diary entry for a good five minutes. I kept reading it and re-reading the lines over again.

It didn't make sense.

It was just ludicrous.

They were _dead_?

A million thoughts and twisted possibilities were buzzing around my head, instantly beating my voices until they were screeching in pain, unable to take the pain of thinking anymore.

I found myself to be grinning like a maniac when I looked ahead at a mirror on the wall. I noticed the tiniest crack in the corner. Their screams began to drown out my thoughts, until it was impossible to only listen to what they were shrieking.

_She's a murderer. _

_You've won. _

_She's broken. _

_It's all over for her. _

_Why else wouldn't she have shown up today? _

_You're so messed up, Jane!_

_You're such a maniac, look what you've done._

The crowd roared inside my mind.

I looked towards the door, and jumped a mile when I saw a hawk faced demon standing stiff in the doorway.

He looked like the Ghost of Christmas Future, and just simply started chuckling, his hooded face nodding slowly. It was The Joker's chuckle.

This was the first time I was experiencing a traumatising schizophrenic breakdown, where my head cascaded into a war zone, but I wasn't screaming the ceiling down and wanting my life to end.

I was just still. Smirking. Silent. Taking everything in. I wasn't even feeling a tear tickle my cheek.

I was thinking this could have been a crazy dream inside my maddened little head and I would wake up to be back inside my cell in Arkham. I even blinked hard several times, but nothing around me didn't refuse to die.

"No..." I whispered, my voice dripping with disbelief.

This was real.

As always, it happened so suddenly. I guess success was what was starting to trigger my mind's insane frenzies now, and not a horrific incident that scarred me for life on the inside.

I read the five lines again. And again, and again.

I began to laugh.

"Joker..." I muttered.

_He'll be proud._

"Joker!" I suddenly called, loudly. "_Jo-oker_!"

I darted from the bed, the skin on my feet burning against the carpet as I skidded out of her bedroom door. I crashed my way down the stairs to find the psychopath.

_She's just as crazy as you are!_

_You absolute mentalist, Jane!_

I exploded through the door where the hostages were now incapable of escaping, tied up to The Joker's mercy, and each of them blindfolded.

"Joker!" I panted, when I saw his back was turned to me. He wheeled around.

"Ah, well if it isn't the princess of anarchy herself, right on cue," he said, with a small smirk.

I gasped in delight when I saw he was gripping onto the video camera in one hand. He had a pair of scissors in the other. He displayed them to me, pointing the sharp end of the scissors in my direction. I laughed wildly as he made them snap relentlessly at me, and he playfully made noises of a snarling dog, making his hair swish crazily as he imitated a wild animal. A shrill chuckle escaped him and he scrunched his nose at me, before giving me a sly smirk and a wink.

"No!" Doctor Sinner cried out from behind him. "How?! How could they let this happen?!"

"Ah, ah, ah, hush your petty mouth," Joker growled, in his unnerving voice of a demon incarnated in human form, which I noticed made both of them shiver in fright. He spun around and quite literally placed her nose between the two blades of the scissors. The psychiatrist yelped as Joker remorselessly put more pressure on the blades, crushing the brittle bones of her nose. He shot the camera at his torturous action and chuckled cruelly. "If ya behave, you'll get to keep ya nose."

I snickered darkly at this, especially when she wailed in pain again as The Joker released her and turned back to me, placing the scissors on the side fireplace. The camera was immediately pointed in my direction.

"You recording me?!" I cackled, despite knowing the truth.

My hysterically insane state, that had been injected so suddenly into my cold veins, throbbing with pleasure, was obvious, and I could tell by The Joker's predatory eyes he knew this fully well. And he was pleased.

"Just a little home video for GCN to broadcast soon," Joker replied, chuckling.

"Ah, won't you citizens be so happy to see me again?" I squealed.

"I think-ah...they should be more, uh...delighted with seeing the people who do such good work in this City, out and about from behind the scenes." You know what I become when the twisted excitement inside my mind rapidly rises, especially if my father is having the same rush racing through his sinister mind. Like Harley would, I obediently scooted further into the room, still carrying the open diary in my hand, and placed myself behind Doctor Sinner's chair, resting my arms on her head. Joker made the camera follow me to record the psychiatrists. "What kept ya so long, sweetheart?" he asked, brightly.

"This." I lifted up the diary in my hand and shook it, making the pages rustle.

"What may that be?" The Joker asked.

"The reality of Doctor Sinner's life. It's such an interesting read, I gotta say."

"My _diary_?!" Doctor Sinner cried. "You read my diary?!"

"You won't believe it, Joker," I grinned.

"Such a nosey girl," Joker said. "Ya know, I was gonna...uh...ask you to discuss something particularly interesting in front of the camera, but now, uh...I am rather intrigued by this now."

"I suppose you've explained already why these two are here, right?"

"Oh yes...yes."

I started to move closer towards the camera's shot.

"Explaining why _we're out_ of Arkham? The purpose? The demands?"

"Oh no, no, no, Janey...no _demands_. We don't want _anything_ from the citizens, do we now?"

"Apart from their attention."

The Joker giggled.

"One hundred...and ten-uh...percen_t-ah_," he sneered.

"You wanna hear what's happened to Doctor Sinner in the last few days?"

My voice, intoxicated with its psychotic snarl, began to sound patronising as I spoke into the camera. The Joker continued to snigger at my audible cruelty, but not so much in his usual maniacal way upon seeing psychopathic enjoyment, but more like a proud father would giggle at his little girl putting on an adorable magic show in the living room for him. Despite that, it still sounded like his authentic laughter.

And it's contagious.

"No!" Doctor Sinner yelped behind us. "Please!"

"Ooh, _someone's_ getting defensive!" I mocked.

"Do tell," The Joker instructed. "Yesterday, 31st January 2009," I began.

I paced across the room, The Joker flowing the camera with me as I walked.

"Please..." the doctor stuttered, quietly. Her voice cracked.

"Jane!" Doctor Arkham yelled. "Please! You're better than this! Don't be brainwashed by him!"

"I'm..._not_...brainwashed!" I screamed.

Something sparked through my every vein. Not bothering to acknowledge the sensation inside me, as it was common now, with my free hand, I viciously backhanded the blindfolded Doctor Arkham.

I felt strangely proud when he let out a whimper of pain.

Joker cackled loudly.

"You really thought Princess Jane was physically weak? Huh?" Joker scolded Doctor Arkham. He launched himself and the camera past me and grabbed Doctor Arkham's stringy hair, forcing his head agonisingly upwards. I smirked at this display. "Isn't that what you said?" Joker went on, suddenly sounding demonic. "You said to me, Princess Jane has no strength compared to me."

"_What_?!" I shrieked.

"Ya see, scum like us, we've had to learn to be strong our entire lives...therefore having, uh...having much more strength in our little fingers than you in your entire body! So, uh...don't you even think about calling her brainwashed. Okay?" There was a tense silence as both the doctors did nothing but attempt to mumble a comeback. "I'll take that as a yes," Joker growled. He violently released him, clearing his throat and comically popping his collar. I laughed as he fired another crafty smirk at me. "You both understand why you're here," he continued, in his slimy clown voice. "I've done a series of videos, and uh...they've always been, uh...ooh, what's the best word for 'em?"

"Influential?" I piped up.

"Good word," he praised.

"Educational?"

"Hmm."

"Motivational?"

"A whole _series_ of things! And now I've recharged my presence in Arkham...here I am, a free man, ready to re-educate Gotham of its noble people, who apparently are _good examples_. I'm here to give a little display of people's true self. Ya know? What's really inside...the mind. The mind is truly an incredible thing. So many things can lurk inside and nip away at it. As I said...these two humans are considered respected people in this _dump_...and so I give you...the truth. I'm all about the truth."

"They haven't been themselves recently, in my opinion," I cut in.

"Oh, _abs-olute-ly_." The psychopath snickered. "Why'd you people believe _all_ people can be treated well?"

"Because they can," Doctor Sinner snapped.

"They _can_?!" Joker's ear-splitting cackle thundered throughout the room. "So how come _I'm_ not? Hmm?"

"You are," Doctor Arkham said. "You both are."

"If I was treated correctly, why am I still _loving_ seeing you two like this?!" I taunted.

"An excellent point," Joker said. "And it seems to me that, uh...the only part of me that has changed...is...well..."

"You're back into doing _real_ magic tricks?" I suggested.

"Precisely!"

We both shrieked with laughter. Joker grabbed my wrist and hauled me back into shot. He growled as he forced me upright, displaying a gloved hand in front of the camera and roughly caressing my face before taking a stride backwards to create the shot.

I was now in the centre of all his jokes.

"Do you think they are good at their jobs, Princess Jane?" I was asked, sternly by my father.

"Not really," I answered, in a sweet tone.

"I risked _everything_ on treating you!" Doctor Sinner wailed. "And all you did was be purposely unresponsive and argue with me!"

"_Ha_! Have you heard this?!" I laughed. "That's a lie! I responded to everything, you silly woman."

"_You_...are the one who is lying, Jane!" she retorted. "I did my best with you, but it appears _all_ people like you only seem to care about yourselves and manipulate people for their own pleasure."

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Shut..._up_!"

"Calm down, precious," Joker commanded. "We don't want the viewers to believe you get angry this quickly, now, do we?"

"But that _is_ what happens! And they _know_ it!"

"Ah, ah, ah...now come on girly. Why don't ya show the viewers what Alyce Sinner is _really_ like, hmm? I'm _sure _this _diary_ would explain it."

A smile pursed my lips. I tongued the ulcers inside my mouth, while grinning in twisted anticipation, like The Joker would lick his scars. That's exactly what he did now.

"Of course," I finally said.

"_Atta_ girl," Joker whispered.

"Please..." Doctor Sinner whimpered.

"Ah, da, da, da...shut up or I'll give you a lecture you'll always remember," Joker threatened, callously.

I hurriedly found the page I wanted and inhaled a skidded breath before reading, mimicking Doctor Sinner's voice:

"January 31st. '_It's only 7pm and it feels like the day has been the longest of my life. My session with Jane Price was reasonably good, but only until we got off the subject of her father and discussed her environmental therapy. I'm convinced The Joker is her father, and I am even more now she refused to answer me. If he wasn't, she would deny it, but she didn't. Jerry believes the same thing. I lost my patience with her months back, but now it's unbearable to talk to her. Jerry has promised me Director for two years now and I haven't gotten anywhere. Price is particularly hard to treat, and the only treatment which has been affective has been her art therapy. It's going to be years. I keep praying to God, but even He has disowned me. Father has warned me I'll go to Hell if I don't work hard, but this job has been my life for ten years, and all that's happened to me is pure punishment. I know God will never forgive my treatment of Henry. I regret what I did, of course, but all souls are forgiven. Only He will decide my fate. Price isn't exactly helping to fulfil my goals to help mother and father get better. I say it every day, she is completely insane, but is treatable. For Jerry's sake, I will find out the truth about Jane's paternity. I shall now sleep, ready to visit mother and father tomorrow before work. I ask God to make it go well and for them not to show their wrath towards my ways_'."

Joker burst into his authentic laughter that symbolised pure madness.

"Henry? Who's this _Henry_?!" he chortled, sounding like he hadn't a clue, when he obviously did.

"Her husband, I presume?" I whirled around to the blubbering doctor for a response, but she had seemed to have crashed into a breakdown of fake tears. I raised an eyebrow at Doctor Arkham, not caring he couldn't see me. "Is that right, Jerry?"

He said nothing.

"Answer her, Jerry," Joker said, sounding hauntingly composed.

"Yes it is!" he cried out, in a pathetic, strangled voice.

"Move aside for me, sweetheart," was The Joker's next order.

I immediately did as I was told, standing aside loyally, like he was an emperor. The Joker stormed over to Sinner, wiggling the camera uncontrollably in front of her face, attaining the shot, so her tear-drenched face filled the camera's lens completely.

"Please, don't hurt her...don't hurt her," Arkham pleaded, his voice trembling.

"Relax, Jerry," Joker grunted.

His large claw grabbed Doctor Sinner's bare neck. A shrill cackle escaped him as he choked her. I could see the pure joy on his face from hurting others.

It was a shame that the viewers wouldn't have been able to view his expression right then.

It made me start to giggle sadistically, seeing the woman who did nothing but question my insanity for five or so months be choked by my father until she could barely breathe.

I wish his hand was my own right then.

"Please!" Doctor Arkham begged again.

"Shut _up_!" I barked.

"You, you poor, poor, _poor_ minded woman," Joker was spitting in Sinner's face. "Explain what that diary entry _means_ to the citizens, if you be so kind, because I _am_ a _little_ confused, and, ah...I don't get confused about a lot of things. You doctors, are supposed to be respectful towards us mentally ill patients, yet...from what I've gathered, you appear to be selfish. Huh?" Sinner said nothing. "_Huh_?!" Joker growled, showing her his predatory look.

"And you..._you're_ not selfish?!" Doctor Sinner cried.

"All _I_ am, is the highest class of a criminal, lady."

"You're a murderer!"

"Oh, a murderer. Hmm. And why? Why do I murder? Come on...come on!" His grip tightened around her neck even further. "You're a _psychiatrist_. You can tell me why a man like me murders."

"Because you have an addiction!"

"Addiction is it? And why is it _you_ are addicted with, uh...with your job? Is the money or–?"

"No!"

"Hmm…"

"I do it because I _know_ I am...I am...good! I _know_ I am good at my job! It is my _life_!"

"I don't _think_ so."

"I _am_ good at my job! I don't deserve to be–"

"You may be, but you're not good at self-control, are ya? Huh? You say...in your diary...you said your mommy and daddy were ill, hmm? And uh...oh, yeah, God will forgive how you treated your husband."

"Who is dead," I added.

"Who is _dead_!" He spluttered into heartless laughter, as did I. He exposed his crumbling golden teeth to her, in a wide grin, before licking his scars, hungry for the madness to come out of her. "What happened to him?" The question finally came. "Did ya kill 'im?"

"No!"

"Were you ever…unfaithful to him?"

"Never!"

"Ah, ah, ah...tell the truth."

"I _am_!"

"Oh and Joker, didn't she also mention she was doing work for _Doctor Arkham's_ sake?!" I mocked. "I would have thought it's every doctor for themselves. I always thought you were quite fond of Jerry!"

Doctor Sinner whimpered in Joker's grasp. He finally let her go and marched backwards, now darting the camera in my direction.

"You know the truth about _Alyce_ Sinner, don't we, Jane?" he asked, in a haunting kind tone.

"She was my doctor, _I_ should know," I said.

"And, as for, ah...me? Well, while you were exploring…I said to the viewers, that before this clip, is another, uh...showing my experiment on these two's true self. It's a muffled, hidden conversation between these two. You know that. Don't. You?"

"Oh, I know that. I _wish_ I could actually see it." We shared a grin, as we both knew I was lying. "How did you _do_ such an experiment, J?"

"A magician does not...by _any_ circumstances, reveal his secrets, sweethear_t_."

"It's more fun if it's a mystery, anyway."

"Hmm...good point, Jane. And, uh, remind 'em...what this video is all about."

"Showing the _brainless_ people of this City that these two...humans...right here...are, in fact, losing their goddamn minds!"

"Ooh, really?"

"Really. And this diary proves it even _more_!" I shook it frantically in front of the camera, guffawing loudly. "I'm not stu-pid! I'm not stu-pid! I am cle-ver!" I chanted.

"Indeed, now, uh...calm down," Joker soothed.

"Do I _really_ need to re-read this again?" I wafted the diary crazily in the air again, skipping from foot to foot, due to my mind starting to thump ferociously. As I continued, Joker was unable to control his sinister sniggering behind the camera. "Alyce Sinner...is nothing but selfish," I declared to the camera. "We both know...from the beginning...she's always wanted Jerry's job and _I_ was the key to get it. I'm not a key for _anyone_! She's also a _fake_ person!"

"How am I a fake person?" she then demanded.

"I'll tell you exactly!" I cried, triumphantly. "It says here, oh...oh _'Poor_, _poor_ me...I treated my husband _badly_ oh I hope _God_ will forgive me! Oh no my parents are ill _whatever_ shall I do?! If I were Head Psychiatrist I would earn enough to treat them!' You're a doctor, shouldn't you be able to treat them for free?! Duh! Plus, _how_ are they ill? You never told me _why_! I was starting _not_ to believe it, until I read what she wrote today! You _gotta_ hear this, J!"

"I'd be fascinated," he said, sounding genuinely intrigued.

I held the diary very delicately, like it was a Bible, and began to recite:

"Today, 1st February 2009, 4am. Five simple lines: _'It's over. Father is dead. Mother is dead. I can't bare it. God have mercy on my soul.'_ Dead? They're _dead_?!"

"Now...that doesn't seem that convincing to me," Joker chuckled.

"My parents _are_ dead," Doctor Sinner whispered. "They died this morning."

"Oh how _unfortunate_," Joker said, remorselessly. He then focused the camera on her face, soaked with her salty tears. Once again, he held her by her throat, making her gag with his overwhelming strength. "This is _all_...starting to make sense. If I, uh recall, rightly...I heard this on the hidden camera conversation. You said to Jerry...'oh I _still_ can't over what I did to Henry'. Your husband."

"Get _off_ her!" Arkham pleaded.

"Ooh, now _he's_ beggin' for ya freedom!" Joker giggled. "How interesting. You know...I suspect you didn't treat ya hubby that well. Hmm? I mean why else would ya...get so _close_ to Jerry? Is he the only thing ya have left to hold onto? You just tyring to make his wife jealous? Hmm? Because Jane is right, isn't she? You..._are_...fond of him. _More_ than fond, in fact!"

"It's _not_ true!"

"Someone's getting defensive again!" The Joker sang, cheerily.

"It's what she _always_ did," I sneered.

"How'd ya parents die?" Joker asked, sounding like an excited little child.

"They...they..." Sinner gasped.

"You don't have to explain to him!" Doctor Arkham interrupted.

"Oh _shut up_, you moron!" I ordered.

"Tell the camera," Joker instructed her, raucously. "_Now_."

"It wasn't anything to...do with me..." she stammered.

"Liar," I muttered.

"Before work...I...I visit them...early hours of the morning...and...and this morning...my father had drunk a lot..."

"Reminds me, uh...of a time..." Joker said.

"Wh-What?" Sinner stuttered.

"You uh...you wanna know how I got these scars?" he asked, softly. I giggled. I knew something highly entertaining was about to happen. "One day...my father comes into my bedroom. As a kid, I used to love to play with playing cards. He comes in, and he's very drunk. My father never liked me playing cards, particularly, uh...the ones that had jesters on it? Ya know the ones I mean? Yeah. So...he takes the drink in his hand and he pours it all over my head. He says uh...I should dye it green. He drags me to the kitchen and won't stop calling me a clown. _Clown...clown...clown_. My old man was a great cook...and so he grabs a kitchen knife and sticks it my mouth. He says..._'Clowns should always be happy...why so serious, my boy?'_ And...Viola...I have a smile."

"Poor you," I sighed, playfully.

"_Poor me_?" I quickly stepped backwards when he and the camera marched towards me. The Joker now towered above me, lifting both eyebrows. "You uh...you wanna run that by me again?" he scolded.

"No," I said, at once.

"Good girl." He took several strides backwards, so he now had both the victims in shot. "Ya know...I _am_ disappointed. I though you trustworthy folk would at least be honest. But _no_. Even after my little companion over there goes through reading out _proof_...and I mention my experiment of proof…you still deny it, don't ya, lady? That you are...you are...a product...of your own patients' madness." He snickered for several moments, twirling the camera out of control. "You are...a _killer_...and a manipulator..."

"No! That's what _you_ are!" she retorted.

"Mm-hmm. But at least I don't tell great..._big_..._fat_..._lies_! Are you a trustworthy doctor?"

"Yes. I am."

"Ya see, _that's_ what I mean!" He spluttered into mocking snickers. "Again with the _lies_. Liar, liar, pants on fire!" he sang.

"He has video evidence, you idiot!" I cried. "You obviously blurted it out accidentally when you were pouring your heart out to Jerry, weren't you?!"

"Blurted out what, Jane?" Joker asked me, sweetly.

"That...that she _did_ do harm to her husband!" I cried. "Physically _and _emotionally. And people criticise men all the time. Women are just as _bad_! She would never tell me how he died! She killed him!"

"And...who knows? She could've done it this morning, too," Joker chuckled. "Believe me. Once a killer, _always_ a killer. No matter what motivates it."

"I _didn't_!" Doctor Sinner sobbed. "Stop it! Stop it!"

"I have recorded evidence that you told Jerry three days ago about your husband," Joker laughed. "Don't _lie_!" He launched towards her, shakily recording himself ripping the blindfold off her eyes and chucking it towards me. Laughing as hard as he was, I caught it and disposed of it. "And as for your dear mommy and daddy..." He grabbed a fistful of her hair, as his voice unpredictably transforming into a monstrous, raucously tone of a demon. "I'm _guessing_...they're shoved in a cupboard somewhere in this house. Hmm?"

"No! They're not!"

"You can lie all you wan' about 'em...but your poor _husband_? There's no escaping the lies _there_, sweetheart. I have it on camera. For _all_ of Gotham to hear. I don't like liars. Well...little _white_ lies are okay...but big _black_ lies...it's very dangerous. Particularly...if you're telling 'em to a guy like me. So spit it out, Alyce. Because you know...that's all you are. Alyce. A young woman from Gotham with ill parents, who...is a _phoney_."

"No..." she whispered, her voice trembling as much as The Joker's hand was, with his almighty adrenaline.

"Please...please spare her..." Doctor Arkham pleaded, quietly.

"_Shut it_!" I snapped.

"Thank you, beautiful," Joker said to me.

"I'm getting _sick_ of hearing his voice," I complained. "_And_ her whining. Come on, _Alyce_. Just admit the truth, and then all of this can be dealt with. Admit to everything."

"You can't make me do anything," Alyce sneered, bravely. Or rather, idiotically.

"Seems, uh...you're gonna be a difficult one to crack, Alyce," Joker taunted her, now slapping her face, lightly with his gloved hand. His head darted up at me, and I stood to attention, like I was a soldier in the army. "Those scissors I disposed of before?" He pointed to the far end of the room, towards a fireplace. I looked to see a pair of scissors were lying there peacefully for me. I grinned back at The Joker and nodded. "Go get 'em." I did exactly as I was told. Joker now began to stride around Alyce at a gripping pace, trailing his fingers across her hair as he walked behind her. He filmed his every move, and I obediently waited for my next instruction, rocking back and forth, impatiently waiting snip the blades into my doctor. As my father caught my eye, he smiled proudly. It was a Dad smile. "Funny how, uh...your real surname is _Sinner_, isn't it?" he said, in a velvety threatening voice. "How very fitting."

"Please, just...what do you _want_ with me?!" The doctor's voice now became a shriek, and it dripped with fear.

The Joker and I both found it hilarious.

"I want you to admit the truth, beautiful," he said, kindly. "That's all, and we leave ya alone to enjoy each other's company."

"You _monster_!" she screeched.

"Now, that's a bit harsh, girly. I'm not a monster. I'm just...ahead of the curve."

I was keeping a close eye on her. I now saw both her eyes gleam. It was a deathly colour of red, of which her eyes sparkled. A sudden furious shout exploded from her lungs, and she writhed frantically in her seat, only her arms tied up behind the chair restraining her. She screamed relentlessly, and The Joker only responded by laughing hysterically.

"You're not gonna get out, are you?" I guffawed, loving watching her struggle.

Doctor Arkham began to do the same, writhing in fear like a fly helplessly tangled up in a spider's web.

"You have _beautiful_ hair," The Joker then complimented Alyce. "Such lovely girly ribbons. Wouldn't be a shame if someone just _snipped_ them off?"

He gave me an excited nod, smirking wide, which was unusual for him. Normally, his face was bland with a small grin, but this time, it was obvious he was having the time of his life. I did nothing but grin from ear to ear back my insane father, trotting to behind Doctor Sinner's chair.

"What for?!" she protested.

"Leave her _alone_, you maniac!" Arkham yelled.

"Take his blindfold off, I want 'im to see this," Joker ordered me. I did exactly that, disposing of her blindfold. "Doesn't each ribbon have one of the seven deadly sins on it?" Joker then asked me.

"Oh, yes," I answered, giggling hysterically. "Pointless thing to do, in my opinion. Everyone has committed all seven deadly sins in their lifetime. I know I have."

"Well let's see...for every lie she tells...let's cut off a sin, shall we?"

At that moment, an identical dose bewitching laughter, from the depths of each of our throats, howled throughout the room. I'm not joking. It was the same laugh.

It was terrifying, even to me, and I was just laughing my way through it.

It certainly made the two victims stiffen in fear. We wasted more video battery as we calmed ourselves.

"Sounds like a perfect idea, J!" I squealed, joyfully.

"This way...the darling woman won't have to _confess_!" The Joker giggled. "This will all just backup the video evidence you viewers saw before this! I _guarantee_ it! It's sorta like admitting the ghastly truth."

"Look at the camera," I commanded to my doctor. "Do it. Now!"

Alyce's head very gingerly lifted towards the camera.

"Thank you for that, Jane," said The Joker.

"You heartless _bastard_, let her go and do it to _me_ instead!" Doctor Arkham cried out.

"I don't wanna hear a word from you, Jerry, otherwise, it's an early exit to the Grim Reaper's office for ya, buddy," The Joker threatened, raucously. "Notice how he's _very_ defensive with her? I thought you were just _colleagues_, nothing more. Ah, well. Now..." The camera swivelled back towards Alyce, with me behind her, going snip _snip snip_ with the sharp blades of the scissors, right next to her ear. I think she could feel me smiling. I was inches away from her face. After all, I did want to examine every inch of her pitiful expression. It was such a delightful thing to see. "Firstly, let's ask you this..." I listened carefully. "You found...working with Princess Jane a little...stressful. Unenjoyable. You found her a bit of a handful. You didn't think you could manage her treatment. I know how that feels."

"N-No...no, I...I didn't...I thought she was a challenge but I never thought her treatment was unenjoyable. It was interesting, and–"

"Oh, that's a _lie_!" I snickered. "You always snapped at me whenever I asked you the littlest thing...always boasting about how good you were at your so-called job."

"It's not true, I–"

"Sounds like a hint of Pride to me," The Joker said.

"I think you're right." I quickly searched her ribbons.

I laughed in accomplishment when I found 'Pride' and with a quick _snap_, I cut just above the ribbon, making the Pride ribbon, and the raven hair attached to it, tumble to the ground, where it splayed out to a pretty pattern on the carpet.

"Stop it! _Stop_ it!" Alyce screamed.

"Now, uh...did you know that Jerry is married?" Joker continued, calmly.

"Yes I _do_ know he's married, thank you!" Sinner barked.

"He has an ugly wife, I've even seen a picture." Joker wiggled his eyebrows at a furious Doctor Arkham, who scowled at the clown. "Does his wife know you are quite fond of him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, such a _gorgeous_ woman like you surely wouldn't go unnoticed by Jerry the womaniser..." He sniggered. "Did your dear husband Henry know you took a liking to Doctor Arkham?"

"I _don't_!"

"Ah, I sense a _lie_!"

"Sounds like Lust to me, J," I sighed, shaking my head. "What a terrible role model you are, Alyce."

"What are you suggesting? I've never-!" she persisted, desperately.

"Ah, da, da, da...I have it on _camera_, missy, so another sin must _go-oh_!"

I laughed loudly as I found the Lust ribbons, and sharply gave it the same fate as its brother, joining him on the floor.

"Done!" I squeaked.

"What about money? Do you desire money?" Joker questioned her next.

"Only to help my sick parents!" she sobbed.

"They're _more_ than sick, darlin', they're _dead_!" We both squealed with heartless laughter. I even felt a cheerful tear spout from the corner of my eye. "It's clear to me that you wanted a higher status in the asylum, therefore giving you more pointless money."

"No, I just–"

"Ya see, _there_ she goes again with the lying. Jane, I think Greed must be addressed."

"Yes, sir," I laughed, and the Greed ribbon was chopped off.

Soon, the doctor's hair became shorter and shorter. I was standing in a river of black hair, and the tide was sure coming in.

Envy was cut off for her envy of Doctor Arkham's wife.

Wrath was snapped off because of her sudden angry outbursts at me, oh and of course for killing her husband (because it was blatant she had).

Sloth fell from grace because of her inability to make quick process (because she was lazy and annoyingly consistent in the topics she chose in therapy, let's face it).

And Gluttony? Well..._everyone's_ committed Gluttony. So that was lobbed off too.

"An' there we have it, ladies and gentlemen." The Joker twirled the camera wildly around, so it now took focus on his painted features. His voice was silky, but always was dripping with his terrifying gravel, which sounded like his normal 'dad' voice. "A lesson on what happens when you consistently lie. When ya _sin_. Oh, and...I'll attach my experimental video to this one to show I'm not a liar." He grunted as he positioned the camera, so I was now in shot. "As for us, well...there's just one more job for Princess Jane."

"There is?" I gasped.

"She'll discover the answer by finding a weapon in a cupboard in the hallway."

My heart started to pound at an uncontrollable speed. Like I was a stone on a slingshot, I was fired and I flew into the hallway.

The cupboard in question was there as soon as I ran in. I reached for the handle, when I heard The Joker cough behind me.

I peered over my shoulder and gave him a quizzical look. He was filming my every move. I jumped from foot to foot, impatiently.

"What?" I mouthed.

"Just to warn ya, there may be a lot in there," he informed me. "Don't alarm yourself on camera and embarrass yourself, sweetie."

His voice was quivering with excitement. I couldn't help but dive into the action, and I quickly clicked open the handle of the cupboard.

I squealed in shock when something I did not expect collapse down at my feet.

Tiptoeing backwards, I looked down upon two lifeless elderly bodies, one male, and one female. Their faces were splattered onto the floor. The male's wrinkly hand, had a neat red line slashed across it, and even the remains of his veins were still managing to spew out and cake his entire hand in dark blood. The female also had a gruesome wound, except hers was impaled on her forehead. The Joker's chilling laugh, that made me shiver, drew closer to drain out my eardrums as I stepped back more. His shoulder eventually planted itself on my shoulder.

Due to shock more than anything, my twisted mind began to laugh, therefore I laughed too.

"At least she's truthful about _something_!" The Joker declared, triumphantly. "They seem pretty _dead_ to me!"

My heart skipped several beats. I swallowed hard.

"You don't mean...?" I giggled, beaming up at him.

"Get the weapon," he snapped, hushing his laughter immediately. I quickly looked back into the cupboard to see a baseball bat, stood upright, patiently waiting. I shuffled around the corpses to get it. Both of us struggled to hold back our laughter as I did, and we laughed even harder when I couldn't reach the weapon.

When I finally did, I skipped back into the other room, knowing what my purpose was going to be. The Joker followed me, halting the camera when I took my position in between the two victims, both which were now blubbering, especially Doctor Sinner, who was crying so much, I thought she may cry to death.

"This is what you meant, right?" I asked, lifting up the large baseball bat.

"You _are_ a clever girl," Joker complimented, with a chuckle. "As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, this..._thing_...I borrowed off my faithful little harlequin."

"Oh!" I grinned. "It's Harley's!"

"Where is she? Well, uh...probably lost in her own little world at the moment. And as for where we are, well...this City is very large. Good luck with that! So you all think...these two phonies are what make Gotham a great City? I think you may need to think about that statement again now. And as for where we are? Well, uh...Gotham City's got so many rabbit holes to escape through, you people may not know where to start!"

I was beginning to grow impatient. My head had been reeling heavily for the entire recording. They were clawing upon my brain, sniggering at the fact I wasn't doing anything other than listen at that moment.

My grip around the bat's handle began to tighten. My foot began to tap in a petulant way.

"Joker...?" I whined.

"What's the matter, my dear?" he asked, in a perilous whisper.

"Can I...?" I cocked my head sideways and batted my eyelashes at him. He chuckled, proudly. "Please?"

"Aw, now, how can I _resist_ that beautiful little face?" He sniggered. "Wait thirty seconds, you little teenage tearaway, and then it's all ours. Hmm? Firstly, there's one more thing I want to address."

"What's that?" I gasped.

"In that diary, you mentioned that yesterday, Doctor Sinner was curious about your true paternity. I mean, who your _father_ really is. Is that correct?"

I smirked widely.

"Oh yeah," I giggled. "She claimed...I'd told others he was dead...but then I told her he was very much alive. She battered me verbally for it."

"Oh dear. She thought it was me, didn't she? That's what she wrote."

"Mm-hmm."

The Joker moved the camera closer to my beaming face, not being able to stop laughing himself.

"Who's your father, sweetheart?" he asked, pleasantly. "Tell them who it is."

Although I couldn't quite believe this was happening, I was still gloating at the camera, because the adrenaline was streaming through every ounce of my body.

It was dangerously high. The darkness of everything around me was making me unable to stay still. It was unbearably exciting. My tongue was flicked over my ulcers as I took in Alyce's whimpering to my right, and Jerry pleading the word 'no' to my left.

It made me snicker at how pathetic they were. Joker licked his lips again, in hungry anticipation.

He was acting unusually affectionate all of a sudden, but whenever this happened, I knew there was something disturbingly evil twirling about in his twisted mind. I knew he acted this way to expose me. Not to show me off. To expose me.

Joker patronised me with his expectant look. That's when I knew he wanted me to tell the truth.

"_You_ are my father," I said.

"And, uh...I can now confirm this to Gotham...that Jane _is_...she _is_ my little bundle of joy."

I squeaked in happiness.

"N-No…no…impossible, it's not _proven_!" Doctor Arkham shouted. "You're _lying_!"

"_Quiet_!" The Joker's bellow silenced everything, all except my heart, which I could still hear thumping against my chest. The camera had moved to show Jerry's face. The Joker's gloved claw fisted upon his hair. "Look at me. Look at me," he snarled. "It's not _proven_, _huh_?!"

"No, it's–"

"Oh, shh, shh...it don't need to be proven. She _is_...my daughter. She is. She's not brainwashed, she's just smart. Just like me. And she's a lot smarter than the majority of the inhabitants in this jungle of _havoc_ that are losing their minds." Releasing Arkham, he turned the camera around to get his face and me, waving frantically, into the shot. "Now if you'll _excuse_ us we have some fun to attend to. If the Batman decides to pay us a visit, just remind him he'll be taking a girl away from her father, no matter what he decides to do. And that...is..._bad_. Say goodbye, sweetheart."

"_Bye_!" I jeered.

"Okay. Show 'er whatcha got."

My father cackled loudly, as he finally ended the appalling recording session, spinning the camera out of control and throwing it onto a sofa behind him.

With my cue, I began to callously pound Doctor Sinner's head with the baseball bat. She cried out in pain, both of the doctors pleading me to stop, but of course, I had to move onto the next grade, and just purely do it for pleasure, and nothing more. And that's exactly what I did.

I enjoyed every moment. Seeing bruises start to form across her head felt riveting, having the power over someone just made me laugh at her weakness. Slapping the bat across her face caused her nose to start streaming dark red blood down onto her lips. Feeling envious of her being able to taste blood, I beat her harder and harder, grunting and cursing the most awful words I could think of, and not giving a care in the world if she was paralyzed for life afterwards.

Not realising my own strength, I beat her so hard that she eventually toppled over in her chair, crashing to the ground.

"How does that feel, you worthless trash?!" I taunted, as I began to kick her in the stomach. She yelped and whimpered in pain, just making me scoff at her inability to fight back. "Bet you feel like you've succeeded _now_!"

Another blow to her head with the bat, made her scream in excruciation.

Laughing all the way, Joker just allowed me to do this, until I felt his hand touch my shoulder.

I instantly stopped, panting hard from my vicious attack. I glared down at the woman at my feet, purple bruises patterning her head, and a line of red blood now smearing all over her mouth.

"My turn," Joker growled.

I passed him the baseball bat, and watched him begin his torture of Doctor Arkham. Only he untied him, allowing him to fight back, and soon, the pair were in a heated fistfight on the floor.

I lay on my belly, swinging my legs behind me, next to Doctor Sinner's mangled body, watching the fight intently with large eyes. I thumped my fists on the carpet, to cheer my father on.

"Beat his ass, daddy!" I cheered him on, now insanely thrilled at the fact I could call him that. "Come on, beat his _ass_!"

It appeared my encouragement made his animalistic combat skills strengthen, and within twenty seconds, had Arkham pinned to the floor, struggling helplessly underneath my father. Joker took the bat and jammed it up against his throat, making him splutter and choke.

Then, Jerry managed to push him off him with his feet.

I gasped in horror.

"No!" I cried.

But of course, Joker had the upper hand as they continued their fight. Like I had done, he pounded the baseball bat into his head without a hint of remorse. He chuckled here and there, but mostly he was concentrating hard, determined to torture this guy into insanity.

After minutes of pure fist fighting, The Joker flipped a surprise knife from his pocket, after kicking him over onto the floor. Upon seeing the ridiculously sharp blade, Jerry's confidence suddenly shattered into pieces, and he cowered before the psychopath, who twirled the knife in his hand, expertly, giving him a threatening eye.

Jerry lost his balance, breath, even his _mind_, as he suddenly could not get to his feet to continue anymore. He'd given up. He was weak. His mind pounding just as hard as his heart was. He just sobbed before The Joker, like he was surrendering in a battle.

"This is why the left of the dealer should always go first," Joker said, walking over to me, and offering me his hand. "They always end up having the most fun." I climbed to my feet. My father pulled me closer to him, and unexpectedly began to caress my hair with his fingers. The adrenaline that burned on the tips of them, began to rub off on me. I shivered against him. "I think we best be going."

"Yeah, I'm getting _sick_ of this place," I muttered.

"Me too."

He sounded like dad again.

Ignoring it as best I could, I followed him out, as he collected the video camera, leaving the two lovers' alone in their own blood, to catch their breath, and more importantly, to finally embrace their madness.

We stepped over the parents' corpses in the hallway. I quickly dashed into the kitchen to collect my notepad.

Once we were outside of the front door, the wind bashed onto my face. I inhaled deeply, taking in every rush of pleasure that gushed through me.

I took one glance at my father.

I saw him rub his fingers on the handle of the knife. His tongue ran through his lips, as he gave me an unreadable look.

Without a word of warning, he clutched onto my wrist and pulled me hard around the corner of the building, so we were now in a drive way.

He forced me to be jammed up against the wall.

Being used to this by now, I of course, was not phased in any way. All I knew was I was about to get a good lecture.

The knife was lifted to my face, and he slowly prodded my cheeks with it, licking his lips in concentration.

"Hmm," he mumbled.

"What's up?" I hissed.

"You enjoy that?" he suddenly asked.

"Absolutely," I grinned.

"Hmm, it certainly seemed that way, you vicious little rapscallion."

"Hey, you did too."

"Well, I'm just…doing my job."

There was an awkward pause.

"You shoved her dead parents in that cupboard before, didn't you?"

"_Another_ little surprise for ya."

"It…_was _a _bit _of shock."

"I'm proud of ya, Shay."

He forcefully pinned my arm against the wall when he felt it flinch from my unexpected anger.

"_Shay_?!" I queried.

"Well, everyone _will_ know now, huh? Everyone will now know…and if they try and threaten me by using you…you should know…it _won't _threaten me…because by now, I know you're more than capable of being a vicious predator now, aren't ya?"

"Why did you want to reveal it?"

"Why not?"

I shrugged.

"Why not indeed?"

"It'll cause an uproar…"

"But that's what we want, right, _dad_?"

He laughed.

"Too right, angel. Too right."

"I'm guessing I can call you dad now."

"Well, I _am _you father, aren't I?"

"You are."

"And what a lucky man I am to have such a _smart_, but _crazy_ little daughter. I _am _glad I found you again. I didn't think I would, ya know. And if I did, you'd be in a grave. Just proves you _are _strong, huh? It's just making this whole thing _much _more fun, and I said, why should _I _always have all the fun?"

"Look, just because I'm your daughter doesn't mean you can _use _me for _anything_. I'm not under your shadow, remember? I am my own person."

"That is _perfect_." He nodded, slowly loosening his grip on my wrist, removing himself away from me completely. He stood back, and gazed at me admiringly, showing me his proud parental look again. It made me dip my head in embarrassment, but I couldn't help but smile. It was truly bizarre, that he was proud at me for doing such a thing, but I don't care. "I have another surprise for ya," he then whispered.

I squealed like a kid at Disneyland.

"What is it, what is it, what is it?" I chirruped.

My father snickered at my beaming face.

"Well, if we find a car, I'll show ya," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going home."

"Going home?"

"Now, don't tell me you've forgotten our _home_?"

"You mean…?"

"We're in Gotham Town, baby. We're going _home_. Our real home. We may catch some prey along the way. You spill as much blood as you like, little one. Come along now. We're going home."

* * *

**_Sorry if Joker's escape root seemed rather ridiculous, but you know what he's like, his plans are always outrageous and he gets away with murder. It could be possible :P Also, the reason I made Arkham and Sinner lovers is because...well in the comics Sinner was his lover for a while. And Sinner also did kill her parents in the comics, too, but I left how a mystery._**


	30. Smile

_**I was originally going to put this at the end of the last one, but that would have made it too long, so I made it separate. **_

_**What's about to happen, is VERY dark and disturbing. Some people may think it's a bad idea and will maybe hate this, but I thought it would work and was kind of needed to be added in order to send Jane to her final destination of madness. So I hope you like just in terms of that. :)**_

_**Oh and remember what her character is like. Remember she is someone who takes pleasure from pain. That's all I'm gonna say.**_

* * *

**Chapter 29 - Smile**

"Now, don't worry, Princess Jane. You know, about people deciding to take our flat from us, since we haven't stepped in there for many moons. I dealt with that. I decided to pay 'em a little visit earlier, and, uh…let's just say, I got our flat back for us with ease."

"There were _new _people in there?!"

"Hmm. Luckily, it was just old phoneys who'd had their time. They looked about a hundred. They weren't gonna say _no_ to givin' up _our _home to a man with a _horrible_ reputation like me, now, were they?"

"Did you kill 'em?"

"Oh sweetie, do I have to spell it out for ya? Course I did. The elder-_ly_…are particularly _fascinating_ people to, uh…ya know…to examine."

"To kill?"

"Yep. To put it bluntly. You _are _blunt, aren't ya, PJ?"

"Well, what's the point of being sarcastic? It's _boring_. Only way to make sense and to get through a message is to be blunt."

"It's hard to believe you were in the bottom classes at school, ya know. You are _annoyingly_ clever. I blame the, uh…the oblivious teachers at GMS. They must've thought…oh, I remember her _father_. _He _was no good either, let's just drag her down like we did to him."

"I blame ADHD."

"That? _That's_ just some letters that mean a complicated characteristic."

"Well…you _are _right there."

"You can _spit _on _any _random folk here in Gotham and I _guarantee _at least _two _outta the five you spit on will have _some _kinda problem. Whether it's in the mind, or, just sort of…_in them_."

"I get it, dad."

"I _don't_ wanna hear blame on what good old _Doctor Sinner _confirmed you have. Like I said to you before…you're moving on to the next stage now, little one. The stage where…you just gotta take _everything _you do with a little spring in ya step. It's _am-u-sing_. Trust me. I've had _my_ share of laughs in this interfering thing called life. Just let go. It'll come to ya, naturally."

"I think it already has."

"We'll see. We'll _see_."

Then the car stopped.

I fluttered my eyelashes and glanced to my right, where I could now see our destination was standing tall and waiting for us.

Our old flat looked exactly the same as it had years ago. The upstairs was barred, abandoned, not a person had ever step foot in it. The downstairs windows showed nothing but the curtains, banning me from noticing if the furniture was still in the place we left it.

Thinking about it, the last time I was in there, was when I ventured to collect my stuff and I found that old picture of my parents. I didn't have that thing anymore. It would still be in Bradley's old flat as we speak, in that crummy picture frame he gave to me.

Everything just dived into long silence. We both stared at the place, like it was a haunted castle, awaiting to trap us inside.

"Some things never change," I chuckled.

"No. Things only change for a _reason_," my father said.

"Shall we go in?"

"Only if you're willing to be prepared for months of _hard work_."

A smirk pulled upon my naked lips, as my eyes looked right up at him, who glared down at me, in the driver's seat.

"Of course I'm prepared," I replied, surprising myself with how confident my voice came out.

"Good. Now let's go."

He stormed his way out of our stolen fiesta, and I quickly scampered after him. Obviously thinking to head for the front door, I hurriedly scooted towards it, but skidded to a halt upon hearing a loud gunshot behind me.

I tripped over my own clumsy feet, to look around. The Joker was swishing his way past me, but as I looked closely at the fiesta he'd left behind, I noticed there were a series of large dents bulleted into the doors.

My attempts of holding back laughter were by now very poor, so I just allowed myself to explode into grimy laughter, swishing my hair back to turn around and join the clown at the front door.

My laughter died down, when I saw he wasn't as amused. Father gazed at our front door with his emotionless eyes. He was completely wordless. Completely focused. His tongue habitually flicked across the insides of his mouth.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. The man seemed totally infatuated in whatever twisted thoughts were cascading through his mind at that moment, as it was completely obvious that that was happening.

"Joker?" I bit my tongue. "Dad…?"

"What?" he breathed, not looking my way.

"What…what, uh…"

"Yes?"

I cleared my throat.

"What did you do that to the car for?"

I wanted to face palm at my idiotic question.

But much to my surprise, he answered, "We won't be needing it anymore. Why? Find it _funny_?"

His voice didn't have that sharp edge to anger that I knew so well to it this time, it had that playful tone, so I knew he was having a flashback. Or maybe his demons were arguing and he didn't want to yell at them.

"Hilarious…" I said, softly, still not daring to take him off my sight.

"Go on," he beckoned.

That's when he finally exchanged his gaze to me. His eyelids flicked, lazily, as he waited for me to step in.

So I did.

I crashed the door open, to see a banner dangling across the hallway.

'WELCOME HOME' it read.

It was written in blood.

I skipped into the flat, and I suddenly couldn't control my excitement. I glided through the hallways, squealing at the top my lungs. I revisited the kitchen, gasped in joy at seeing our drought garden.

Finally, I kicked the door down to my bedroom.

"My _room_!"

Despite all my drawings and gothic posters being disposed of, I wildly leaped onto my bed, howling with laughter as I snuggled against my old bedsheets. I lazily lay across it and sighed heavily, gazing up the ceiling.

The Joker then came into my vision.

"Happy to be home?" he asked.

"Yeah!" I squealed.

"Of course, _I _was the one who got it back. And your room."

"Oh, _thank you_, daddy!"

He lunged down on the bed next to me. I smirked at him, placing my hands behind my head.

"You wanna learn?" he then questioned.

"Learn what?"

"Our goals."

I smirked wider.

"Oh, you mean…?"

"Yep."

"Go on. I'm all ears."

"I, uh…_need _to be sure of something first though, sweetie."

"What?"

"About you."

"You know _everything _about me."

"Uh-huh, a whole _manner _of things, but, uh…our next heist? It's not gonna be about _me_, okay? It'll be about you?"

"Heist?" I gasped. "Where we going? What's the plan?"

"Plan? Oh, Janey, there is no _plan_. I don't have plans, remember? Only those folk with the _order _have plans, you know? Like I said, we have a _goal_. Something to _achieve_. We get that by, uh…working hard."

"So what's this goal, then?"

"That's a very good question, I'm glad you asked. Well…since our last experiment with the commissioner and his whiny family was _flawed _by some giant flying _parasite_, I've been thinking about a _new way _to show their corruption. I told Batman I believed we were destined to keep fighting forever. And _so_…I've decided to make Batman useful again. Because essentially, Batman is a criminal. The police hunt him, the city fears him. By the time _we're _done, darlin', this City will _cry _for their Dark Knight, and _then_…" His eyes closed. He inhaled a big, pleasurable sigh, and I remained fixated on his passionate expression. "And then…we'll watch 'em all weep, as he fails 'em _all_. If either of us die in the process because of Batman or the commissioner, even better."

"Sounds like _fun_," I giggled, feeling a burning sensation start to spark around me already.

"I take it you're in. Huh?"

"Of course, daddy, don't be silly."

"You're a smart girl. But, uh…it's gonna be hard work, you know."

"So? Hard work pays off."

"That's what I like to hear. Now, I need a promise from you."

"Go on."

"Like I said you before, you're moving on motive now. Motive? Sheesh, motive holds you _back_. It's so _boring_. Actions have gotta have a bit of _kick_, now, pumpkin. Your motive before, was revenge, which is all well and good, but it's _so _cliché. The average person, when they kill, it's either about revenge, or it's a professional murder. And that is _so_…_boring_. Time for a change of heart, I think, Princess Jane."

"I know what you mean. Besides, I've run out of people to gain revenge on. I killed them all."

"You certainly _did_."

"You got any ideas on making this stage _easier_?"

He licked his lips. My father's face remained blank, until a small smile formed. I saw his golden teeth grin at me.

"I have…a little something in mind," he answered.

"What's that?"

"Haven't you _noticed_ something?"

"What?"

He nodded his head behind him, and I sat up on my creaky bed, to see my old wardrobe in front of me. Hanging from it, were some clothes.

But they were _my _clothes.

The Princess Jane purple crown top was there, with my silk, purple gloves folded over it.

"Orange _really _isn't your colour," The Joker said.

"How did you…?"

"Magic trick. Now, I've bought some, uh…_new _stuff for you. A criminal now with _no boring _motivations, have _gotta _have a new look. I know what you women are like. What _is _it with me an' always working with _girls_. I think you'll _like_ it. _Now_, as a father daughter team, we gotta match in some ways. If it suits me, it'll suit you too. Just take a look."

"What about the war paint?"

"There's some of _that_, waiting for ya in the bathroom. I'll use it first. It's gone slightly _off _since that big escape from Arkham."

"Woah."

"See ya in a second."

He waltzed out of the room, leaving me alone, to finally get out the Arkham rags I had been wearing for months.

The only thing that remained from my previous outfit, was my purple top, with the golden crown pattern, my silky purple gloves, and my black high heels, which I'd walked upon murder with so many times, I was surprised they hadn't bleached to red.

I quickly unchanged myself in front of my miniature mirror out the revolting prisoner suit, refreshing myself, and shaking back my hair, by recreating Princess Jane's royal look.

The Joker had left me a long coat, which looked identical to his, with a pair of silky purple pants. They fit perfectly, and knowing my father had remembered my clothes' size was quite astonishing.

I flipped on my new coat, infested with millions of useful pockets, over my Princess Jane top, only buttoning the top button to reveal my flat stomach, and slipped into my new pants, which were highly comfortable. I laughed as I snapped the strap of it onto my hips, and twirled myself in front of the mirror in my bedroom, admiring my new style. The high heels were strapped onto my feet, prepared to give me blisters from the first moment. Then lastly, the gloved fitted neatly into my hands, allowing me to have a more comfortable grip on weapons.

I looked much more sophisticated, like The Joker. I wasn't girly anymore, I was dressed like I meant business.

And I fucking _loved it_.

After I was comfortable with my new refined look, I skipped into the bathroom, where as promised, father had left war paint out for me to play with, including Harley's black lipstick.

Stuck onto the mirror, lay a post-it note, reading: _'You're going in a battle. Make it light for now. And cut your hair the same length as mine. Having Rapunzel hair will trip you up when out and about. J._'

With daddy's orders, I began to hastily dab on my war paint, starting from my nose, all the way to the edge of my forehead, just missing the roots of my crimson hair. I admired my cunning grin, as the _real_ Princess Jane was reborn in front of my very eyes. She looked menacing, her face paint highlighting her chocolate eyes. I made it very light paint, using the splayed out casual makeup (lipstick, eyeliner etc.) to stylise my feminine features.

And then, my crimson hair started to tumble to the ground, as I snipped it off, giggling excitedly as I recalled snapping off the sins from Doctor Sinner's hair. I made it just above shoulder length, though it was cut laughably uneven. I pushed my fringe in front of my right eye.

I leaned on the sink, and gazed into my reflection.

"Ready to carry out duties, Princess Jane?" I chuckled to myself.

I was _back_.

I was no longer a prisoner. I was free.

And judging by my new threads, the mob would know I'm no one to laugh off and class as a joke. I was now an experienced killer, and could finish them off in seconds flat with one cut through their throats.

Though I had no tiara anymore, I didn't care. I was _still _a princess. Of anarchy. That's all that matters.

It takes a lot for me to admit I look good, but I looked _so _good I self-pampered and complimented my crazy self in my reflection for minutes, giggling and twirling the whole time.

After a while, I made my way to the sitting room.

Just like old times, I entered the room to see my father slouching on the sofa, helping himself to some kind of comfort, such as a cup of coffee. Only at that moment, he was smoking a cigarette. It was delicately placed between his gloved fingers, his other hand resting on the top of the sofa. His face paint, like he said, was redone, his lips scarlet, the circles around his eyes more blacker than his heart, and of course the white face paint smeared over every inch of his blank expression.

Father didn't notice me as my shadow emerged in the doorway, so I just stood there casually, folding my arms, and leaning my back on the post.

"Hey, _dad_-_dy_!" I sang. Joker's head immediately scurried towards my direction. "What do you think?"

He licked his lips as he observed my new look from head to toe, initially etching no expression whatsoever in his painted features, maintaining his usual unreadable thoughts.

But slowly, a smirk started willingly scraping upon his mouth. A raspy chuckle escaped his lips, as they smacked together in a smug way, and he sighed.

"Heh. You know someone once told me…you'll _know_ the moment…when you look at your daughter, and realise…_hey_…she's a _woman_ now, _not _a little girl," he said. He slowly rose to his feet, after suffocating his cigarette into an ash tray on the arm of the sofa. "I think that moment has _finally _arrived."

"Is that…a bad thing?" I said, hesitantly.

"If it _was_, you think I would have gathered all this for ya? I knew this would be the outcome."

One of my eyebrows cocked upwards, as I giggled.

"So you like it?"

"It's what I like to call…_genius_."

"That works. _You _got it for me. And I _do_ love it. I feel so much more…sophisticated…I think. I don't feel very girly anymore. I feel _just _perfect. Like I match you more now."

"Good. Sit down."

I did as I was told, as I neatly placed myself on the sofa next to him.

"So what now?" I asked.

"Look at me."

I didn't need to because he grabbed my chin, so I was looking to the depths of his dark eyes. He was almost crushing my chin in his gloved fingers. Joker glared at me with a hazardous stare, the kind of sickening look involving blackened eyes and an intolerant frown, that would send a little child running a mile if it popped up on a TV screen.

My heart was racing, but not due to fear. It was due to excitement. I knew he was scheming up something in that complicated head of his, but being him, I knew he wouldn't let slip about it just like _that_.

Not taking his eyes off me, I saw his hand slowly snake down to his pocket, beginning to fumble through it.

I instantly thought a knife was going to appear, and it did. The blade spiked out of its handle, like it had initiated its target.

And he noticed that's where my focus now lay.

"Ah, ah, ah…look at _me_," he ordered. My eyes shot back towards his face. He muttered something beneath his breath, shaking his head a little. He hummed before clicking his tongue in concentration, an almost confused look on his face. "Are you scared?"

"No," I answered, truthfully.

"Why?"

"There's nothing to be scared of."

"No? Not even _this_ little beauty in my hand?"

"I've seen it a million times."

The knife travelled closer to my face.

"You know, your new _look_…" he then breathed, forcing me to smell his bad breath as his face became inches from mine. As always, he was purposely being disturbing. I was used to it. "There's just…_one _thing…that's _bugging _me about it."

"Bugging you?" I said, sounding dazed.

"It's got _nothing_ to do with your clothes…or your hair…"

"What?"

I now sounded stern, and he smiled.

"It's uh…this."

The end of the blade poked itself on my forehead. I squeaked in pleasure at the metallic touch that I hadn't felt in _so long_. The adrenaline sparked immediately, beginning in the tips of fingers, before it flowed through every vein. I shivered at the touch, before shrieking with laughter. My father noticed my piercing giggle at once, because I heard him chuckle with me, jarringly.

The Joker became blank again, as he began to create a circle on my face, trailing it around my face. It ended at my chin. The sharp end nudged into it, but my focus never left my father, not daring to show any signs of weakness, but I didn't _need _to, because I _wasn't_ scared. This was the most calmed but perilous adrenaline I'd felt in _ages_.

"What's the problem?" I asked, brightly.

"_This_," he grunted, in a low voice, as if someone was around. He prodded my face's flesh with the end of the blade. "This…is the problem."

"You mean…you mean my _face_?"

"The problem _is_…Gotham will now be _informed_ you're my offspring, but I get a funny feeling, they may just see it as a _façade_. I know what the people behind the _justice system _are like. They'll think it's just a _teeny _white lie to create an excuse so you continue work with me. You heard Jerry. _He_ didn't believe it."

"But…why would it be a _lie_? We know the truth."

"Precisely. _We _know the truth, but, uh…they wouldn't call me the most _trustworthy_ guy. Hmm? It's always the _same_. I tell 'em a fact and they believe I make it up for…attention…maybe? I think I get _enough _of _that_, don't you?" I nodded. "The reality is, that you _are _a girl…sorry…a _woman_…just wanting to stand by her daddy. Oh, but there'll be a whole _ton _of arguments from those guys about _that_…like, uh…what evi_dence_ do we have that I'm you father? Do we have any proof?"

"We shouldn't _need _to prove ourselves."

"You're right. We shouldn't."

"And I think people _will _believe it. I mean…even though it took Doctor Sinner a _ridiculous _amount of time to figure it out, she _eventually _put two and two together and figured it out _just _because we have the same…" I smiled. "The same…mental…"

"Say it."

"The same mental health."

"Bu_t_…every other citizen _without_ a degree in criminal psychology won't know _that_, will they?"

"I…I guess not."

"Which is why…we have to prove i_t_."

"We _don't_."

"Ah, da, da, da…listen to me." He fired that stern parental look at me, so I nibbled on my tongue to prevent myself from speaking. As he continued his speech, his voice grew more and more gruff, and his 'clown' voice deteriorated into his 'dad' voice. "If we wanna go out there and move onto the next stage, and carry out that goal I told ya, we _can't_ have all the investigators, the cops, blah, blah…_those type of people_…we _can't _have them distracted from fighting injustice by trying to prove it's lie. It's a waste of _time_. We just wanna get _on _with it. So therefore…I know the way to _prove it_."

"How?"

"Your _beautiful _little features…there's no denying they're _stunning_. They're almost…almost haunting. Bu_t_…the problem is…between you and _me_…there aren't many facial features that match."

"What about the eyes?!"

"Eye matching means nothing. You could've gotten _that _from a grandparents or somethin'. The war paint…is _does _show a _little _more resemblance, but obviously not _enough_ otherwise people would've noticed the _uncanny _similarities in our _beautiful _faces. We match noses." He pinched it, roughly, causing me to squirm on the sofa, and then, he pinned down one arm with his overwhelming firm grasp, and he was now slightly above me. The knife was still placed underneath my chin. "But that's _it_." Without a word of warning, The Joker dabbed the knife onto my mouth. "Shame you decided to take the form of your mother," he grumbled, sounding like dad. "And you know something I realised, doll? She's still here…because she's _you_."

"I'm not _her_!" I yelled.

"I know, _I _know…" he soothed, beginning to caress my face. "But as long as you continue to _flaunt _her _features_, she's still here. We have to get rid of her. You _aren't _her. You are _me_. Aren't ya? Hmm?"

"If I'm _anything _like mom was, I'd rather _die_."

"Ya see, _that's _the spirit. Not that you don't miss 'er. Right?"

"No. I don't miss her."

"Says the woman who avenged her mother by _killing _the man responsible for her murder."

"That was _then_. It's just about you and me reaching our goal now, _dad_."

The Joker raised an eyebrow, tonguing the insides of his mouth to relax the pressure of his irritating scars.

"You know something funny?" he then asked, with a gleeful spring in his voice.

"What?"

"When somebody is murdered, if on the news they say, it was a single man in his forties who was probably a homosexual, not as _many _people would be interested about that, as opposed to a story where a _mother _with _three _young kids was _killed_…in…cold…_blood_…_everyone_ would be _weeping _saying it's the world worst crime."

"You're right there."

"And another thing I'm right about…a child can change _one _feature about 'em…and it can change _everything_."

"You mean…?"

"When I was a kid…when I cut my hair shorter, I looked like my mother…grew it out-_ah_…I looked like my father. All it takes is for _one thing _to change…and I have a brilliant idea, sweetie."

He forced the tip of the blade to prod onto my lips, gazing down at me with a sly grin. I winced as he forced me to feel him scraping the blade across my bottom lip, but I couldn't bring myself to make any sort of noise of pain.

I heard his lips smack.

A sickening growl erupted in my stomach, as I had a hideous feeling of what he was going to do to me.

But what could I do? I promised I was scared of nothing, I cared about nothing but him. Which is the truth. All I wanted to do, was to be Princess Jane, and carry out what she stands for. Because the world _needs_ it, no matter what they think.

"What are you doing?" I finally managed to question, although I knew, my voice inadvertently coming out as my 'princess' voice.

A grin plastered onto his lips.

"Nervous, are we?" he said, mocking my voice.

"No, I'm not."

"You wanna prove the only thing you care about is me?"

"You _know _it is."

"Meaning you don't care about yourself?"

"I don't care about _anything_, except our goals. It's fun. You _know_ that. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't understand the world, and it's revealing itself to be just the way you said. You have _no idea _how much satisfaction I get from causing the _destruction _of their precious little system, daddy. You know that's the truth. I've proved that's the truth these past couple of months, haven't I? I've taken _everything _from you to get there. So…do whatever you want to me. I'll take it in my stride. I _know _you're right."

"_Atta _girl."

"I know what you're going to do."

"Go on…"

I held my breath, knowing if I was wrong, that knife could be pay a visit into my heart.

"You said one _little _change can make you look more like the parent you don't look like as much. I've cut my hair you're length, which_ must_ help, I'm wearing makeup like you, which you _said _helps, but…there's something you have…that I _don't_…and if I have it…then we'll look the _same_. Supposedly."

"Which is?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at that moment.

"Hey come _on_, dad, you really think I'm silly? We _both _know what it is. And it's a good idea, you know why? Because you've always told _me_, not to be threatened by anything the world throws at me, so I'm always one step ahead of them. So, having a little _carving _on my face will only show that…I…don't…_care_…what happens to me. Threatening is one thing, but actually carrying it _out_ is another, huh, dad? So, say…someone _threatened _to carve me up into a million pieces leaving me for _dead_…it wouldn't _bother _me…and it will be a pretty silly action…because I will have had my _face_ carved up, which they could see clearly. Plus, making them kill me like that…well…I _win_, because, like you said, any _sane _man feeling the need to remorselessly _kill _somebody would mean they would be corrupted."

For once, The Joker became speechless. He stared down at me like a predator. I continued to smile, smug at the impressive speech I just came up with.

Look, I know what you're thinking. I've _always _been this way and would not care if someone actually _did _to that to me. So, what's changed? Why am I suddenly thinking this way?

The thing is, many months ago, when I first crawled into the impenetrable skin of Princess Jane, I _would _have cared if someone overpowered my physical or mental strength. Look what happened to me when Theo did it. Yes, I killed several people without giving a care in the world and enjoyed every minute, yes, I was psychotic nutcase, and yes, I was what they like to call a 'serial killer'.

Back then, I was worried about what was going to happen to me, especially as my father had transformed into this maniac that didn't care about anything, and just wanted to see the world be destroyed before his very eyes. I didn't care about what I'd _done_ to people, just about what harm I was going to come to, _especially _after what happened with Theo. You see the difference?

That was because I hadn't had time to sit down, and work on my audible abuse towards others, and now I had done that for many months in Arkham, with Doctor Sinner, and look what happened to the pathetic woman. It had strengthened me completely, despite having a serious mental breakdown, it had made me realise I enjoy watching other people suffer, and _cry_, and _weep _at the sight of me and my actions, whether physical or not. I mean, people scared of _me_? A sweet little seventeen year old girl? Just proves people have no _guts_ anymore.

But now, the war with my mind was dying to a close, and they were deciding to become neutral with me. I have been mentally abused, _literally_, for ten years. I think I've coped with it by now. And the fact I had my father by my side, despite being the psychopath he is, but yet still willing to allow me to help him, just gave me that extra boost to help him.

Maybe he does still care in _some _way, right? I mean, I _was _the only person he loved.

What I do think of love now? Love is _degrading_.

After a few moments of gazing at me, with what seemed amazement, father cleared his throat, gripping onto my face like it was a prized possession.

"I never thought I'd hear you say something like _that_, a few months ago," he said, his voice dripping with adrenaline. "Seems to me, like you've had a _little _reality check."

"I was…a little scared before. I'm not scared _at all _now. Not of anything."

"Oh, oh…I _know _you _were_ scared. _That's _why I was so uneasy with you, you see. I always help people skip down the correct path." He licked his scars. "I _knew _your doctor would be some _easy _bait. Sometimes, PJ, it only takes several conversations and testing someone's…_madness_…that can kill _all _your worries and make you see, that in life, there _has _to be no rules. That's when life is _most _fun, when all rules are _scraped_. And you were simply showing that woman, that…she had to let go…and _laugh _a little. And it worked. And _I know_, in somebody's first actions in this business, like yours, Jane…you get to see what gets tangled up in their emotions. I _know _what was messing with your emotions when you first stepped into the limelight. That _boy_, wasn't it?"

"No, it was–"

"Don't lie."

"I was scared of getting killed, or what was gonna happen to me," I scoffed at the thought.

"Maybe so. But it was that _boy_."

"_No_."

"Don't shoot the messenger, Princess Jane."

"I'm _not_."

"Getting defensive, are we?"

"Look. I don't _care _about him anymore. I haven't for _years_. For all _I_ care, he can go crazy and get _killed_ while trying to _chase _after what made him go crazy."

The Joker smirked.

"That's my girl."

"You've _always _told me it's not about the past, but what's happening _now_. So _forget _about it. I have a new look. Let's focus on that, please, dad."

"You are most correct. Now. Prove to me you're not scared anymore, hmm? No _use_ in being scared in a world like this. Being _scared_, only holds ya back, and, uh…as for, so-called _phobias_? Phobias are important. Phobias can be the _end _of someone. Keep that in mind, pretty face. Trust me. I _know_. Now, then. Keep your mouth shut, stay still, and let me kill Diana for _good_."

Before I could reply, the knife was forcefully slid in between my lips, and my mouth was forced open. The Joker was skilled with a knife, so was very careful not to ram it down my throat and kill me instantly. He placed it very carefully, making me struggle to steadily control my windpipe, but enough to make my veins start to throb with venomous adrenaline, the kind of adrenaline I would feel while committing a bloody murder.

But _he_ wasn't going to kill me. My father wouldn't kill me. All he was going was killing what was left of my mother in me. That being cowardice.

The spiked end dug into my soft tongue. I exhaled deeply when I felt the metallic taste of the knife. I swore I could even smell the victims that had been on the end of this weapon.

It drove me _so _crazy. Even crazier than I usually am.

I was literally on the edge of, one move, and I would be killed in an instant. But I was liking it.

What on _earth _had come over me?

The voices began overlapping each other with frantic conversation.

Some were telling me to run. Some told me to stay still. Some even said to keep my eyes shut.

_It'll all be over soon._

_No, you're being forced to feel it, so feel it._

I closed my eyes as I became lightheaded from all the sudden madness. It was _too _sudden, even for me. My father's madness was mixing with my own. His, being much higher than mine, was like a software upgrader, plugging into my own mind and forcing even more mental distress to fill my brain.

It was working.

All he did was put a blade in between my lips, and jolted it ever so slightly, and I was already becoming dizzy. I fluttered my eyes open quickly, to nothing but a water-coloured vision, which just made my head pound and _pound _and _pound _and _pound_.

I wouldn't have thought I would feel _this _way. Any normal person would have been praying and squirming for their lives at that point, but me, being _me_, I just had to engulf it.

Oh, it wasn't _all _satisfying. The end of the sharp blade was irritating and was agonisingly painful upon my tongue.

So why wasn't I yelling in pain?

I wasn't about to question it.

"_Hey_, open your eyes an' look at me!" The Joker then commanded, gruffly. My eyelids battered open, intensely. Our dark eyes met, but he looked as evil as he'd ever been now. "I want you to _look _at who's _doing _this to you." Not daring to nod in response, I kept still. My fingertips clutched onto the end of the sofa. "I'll only do it _little_," father said, "because you're _little _version of me. Hmm? It'll still make _all _the difference. People…will _still _notice the _resemblance_."

I was beginning to feel that wasn't the reason at all, and he was just doing it for the hell of it.

But if I proved I would allow that to be done to me, then I proved _anything _could be done to me, and I would laugh it off.

I choked, as the knife had been inside my mouth for so long, but now The Joker travelled it to the right side of my mouth, where he tugged upon it furiously, stroking the sides of the blade against it. My eyes stung at forcing them to stay open.

"I'm _awful_ proud of ya, little one," he said, in an eerily calm voice. "Now, I must ask you _not _to scream, it could, uh…_distract_ me."

Why was he taking so long?

_Stay still, Jane. Stay still._

"Now, this…won't hurt a bi_t_. Not if you're made of steel. Okay?"

My heart missed a beat. The way he said 'okay'…sounded exactly like dad, his affectionate voice for when I was upset.

And now, my father was about to torture me.

It began with an excruciating jab on the side of my mouth. Then, one by one, the blood vessels on my cheeks began to _pop_, one by one, as the blade ripped through my cheek's pumping flesh. I gasped when I realised how tough my skin was to push through.

The carving was deep and agonising. It made me shudder against his hand that fisted my hair. I crushed my tongue with my teeth, desperate not to make a sound. I felt several little blood droplets start to trickle down my cheek, until they splashed onto my new coat underneath me.

This was cruel. This was _beyond_ morality. It was beyond _painful_.

But pain? Pain is life. Everyone goes through some kind of pain to get what they want.

I squeaked and yelped out in agony several times throughout, as it was too unbearable to cope with, even to the blackest of hearts. Can you blame me? But I didn't scream and whimper like any _other_ pathetic person.

The Joker didn't respond to my several cries out. He simply continued his work, with a deadly concentrated expression, lidded eyes of nothingness and his own tongue poking out of his mouth in attentiveness.

The blade twitched against my cheek as Joker forced it to continue to carve me, and the coolness of the metal made me breathe out in pleasure, when it left my skin and placed itself back on it.

My hideous Glasgow smile was completed, my left side being made purposely more crooked than the right.

Much to my surprise, it was over within under ten seconds.

And after that, I was thrown onto the floor by my hair, where my heavy head hauled me down to stare at the blood that was flooding into a puddle below me. The flowing blood journeyed into my mouth. It caused me to flick my tongue on my mouth relentlessly tasting it. I couldn't stop licking my lips.

I exhaled a lightheaded sigh of relief.

"Now, you're always smiling," The Joker said, above me. I felt his coat brush against my hair, as he sauntered past me. I managed to look above me, to where he towered above me. He kneeled down to my level, and placed his thumb underneath my right eye. I gulped. I was unable to stop panting, shivering. "Why _hell-oh_, daughter."

"He…Hello…" I breathed, weakly.

"Don't worry. They aren't as…" His other finger touched my scar, where it stung and sent a ripple of a sickening feeling through me. Joker sensed this, and chuckled. "They aren't as _big _as mine. But you know what?"

He rose, venturing over to mom's old dressing table near the fireplace, cluttering through the doors, and eventually finding a handheld mirror. He then made me stagger to my feet, where I felt so weak I couldn't find my feet, so my father caught me, and lead me over to the sofa, where he slumped me down next to him. Unintentionally, I spluttered violently and like a dead body, collapsed onto him, my head landing on his chest.

I coughed violently, the blood still spewing from my cheeks. The room was spinning, the voices cluttering against one another.

I was astonished when The Joker didn't move me away from him. He began to stroke my hair, and held up the mirror in front of our faces.

At the sight of what I looked like, I shrieked, hiding my face away in my hands.

"Now, now, now…" The Joker whispered, his voice sound too soft and gentle for his character. "Look at yourself. You're hiding away again. _Look_…at your reflection."

My trembling hands trailed away from my face. I saw my blood-red carved smile, still streaking with blood. It was an ugly sight. I very lightly touched my crooked one.

"It's…it's…" I said, weakly.

"I know, I know. It's true. Jane, you're a _princess_. All princesses are beautiful. You pull it off even _better _than _me_."

"But…why do I feel sick?"

"I felt sick too. But you know your scar on your shoulder? _That _healed quicker than lightening. So _these_ ones will too."

"It's weird…you're the cause of both."

"Indeed I am."

"It still _hurts_. I don't _want _it to hurt."

"Think of all those people you've killed with a knife. You get to see more…_expressions_ when you have a _blade _at 'em. What you feel on your cheeks right now? _This_ is the pain they feel. But _worse_. _This_ is what you cause to 'em, sweetie."

"That's…that's _perfect_."

"See? And _now_…we're practically twins!"

"I guess, I…_do _look more like you now…these scars, dad…they're _aggravating_."

"You'll get used to it."

"Okay. Why aren't you mad at me?"

"_Mad _at you?" He laughed, heartily. "My _darling_! Why would I be _mad_?"

"Because…"

"Because you're bleeding a little? _Please_. Everyone has to start _somewhere_. Now every time you look in the mirror, you'll see the new _you_. The fearless princess who introduced a bit of _anarchy _into her life, and _now_, she simply wants to make Gotham cry. Be much easier now you've got _those_, sweetheart. Trust me."

"I just feel so…"

"_Don't_…mention the W word."

"I was gonna say…I feel different. Already."

"I'm in _awe _you can even _speak_, let alone _touch _'em!" He shrieked with laughter.

"Do you finally accept I'm not _wea _– feeble?"

"Oh…you're a _star_."

"But I look…I look…"

"Huh. Women and how they _look_, eh?" Father then yanked my hair again to make me look upwards at him. "_Don't _be like Harley and rant on about your looks. You think about _more _than _she ever does_. What _she _is, isn't _you_."

"No. I am _your _daughter. Just yours."

"Say that again."

"I…am…your…_daughter_."

"I told ya, you just have to change one thing and you'll look like me. And ya do." We both looked back into the mirror again. It was true. You may think that's ludicrous, but I swear that's the honest truth. The scars, we matched, my hair, my makeup, I did look like him. Not like _identical_, but we did now look more alike than we'd ever have. And that being the cause, was so bizarre. "Now they'll _never _deny it."

"I hope not," I hissed. "I _hate _being called a liar. If they deny it to my face, I'll rip them to shreds."

"Atta _girl_."

"Besides, they _won't _deny it."

"Hmm…becoming yourself again, I see? Over the carving session, are we?"

"Of course not, but… but I'll get used to it."

I took another glance in the mirror, feeling my scar on my right cheek with the tips of my adrenaline-rushed fingers.

My mind still felt like it was falling into the next stage of my insanity, like my saneness was bleeding heavily on the inside of my skull, and was vanishing away. I didn't even know if it was even _possible _for me to become even crazier than I was, but I guess right now was proving otherwise.

But I _like _being crazy. It's better than being _boring_.

That moment was still causing me to be lightheaded, due to my rapid blood loss.

I glanced down at the tips of my gloved fingers, now topped with gorgeous dark blood on them. The stains they would leave would forever let me recall this memory.

As The Joker shrilly chuckled, I began to grin.

My scars stretched with it, forming a gruesome smile across my whole face.

That's when I laughed hard. We both did.

What can I say? Our laughs are contagious.

Once we had managed to compose ourselves, Joker made me look at him again.

"Now, I think you'd better get some sleep," he grinned. "We, uh…we have a _long _day tomorrow. And I mean a _long _day. We have visitors."

"Visitors? Who?"

"Princess Jane. Sleep."

"Sorry, daddy."

"No need to apologise-_uh_. Now."

The Joker rose to his feet and began to plod out of the room. I rested my head on one of the cushions, staring down at my Glasgow smile in the hand mirror.

I slowly drifted to sleep, feeling my cheeks continue to bleed as I did.

I bit my tongue hard.

I looked at myself again.

I _did _look like my father now. I really did.

But we _all _know the _real _reason he did it. It was to fully complete the madness that was nipping away at my sanity. Even I know I was incomplete, but after such a moment of that, I'd proved I wasn't going to let anything hold me back anymore. Nothing. Not even him. Especially not myself. I was _done _with the world and its precious moral codes.

I'd loved to see it burn before, but now I wanted to see it _crash _and _burn_, with people inside, burning with it.

Because it is _beautiful_ not to care.

Now, I really _do _have a father that lets me do as I please.

And that's funny.

And that's the reason, I allowed my beautiful laughter to ring out through our old flat at that moment. I did it while stroking my new scars, and feeling them trail over my fingers.

"You have your dad's smile," Chase had once told me.

* * *

_**Jane's new look is exactly one of the outfits of Duela Dent, who she is based on :)**_

_**Now, this story WILL be put on hold for a while. Sorry, gonna be busy for a few weeks, but will update asap! Thanks :) **_


	31. AUTHOR'S NOTE

_**Author's Note**_

Hello peeps and faithful followers of this fanfiction!

I've decided to write a little note just to let people know what's happening with this story, clear a few things up and when the next update will be.

As you may or may not know, this story is on hold at the moment. I intended it to be on hold for just a few weeks, but it may be that it will be longer than that now, I may not even be able to update until the end of next month. This is for a number of reasons what with Christmas coming, but mainly because I am focusing on my college project, which is also writing a novel and I must, unfortunately, put school work first. I also need time to think where this story is going and how it's going to end. I am 98% sure how it's going to work out and what is definitely going to happen in the next chapter, chapter 30. My last chapter "Smile" was super short and mostly dialogue, and in fact a lot of the recent chapters have been dialogue, so I intend to put a lot more action in the upcoming chapters. (It would also be great to receive more feedback for Chapter 29 as I am planning to edit it to make improvements, so reviews on that chapter I would be REALLY appreciative of).

I'm really really sorry that it will be a longer wait, but I promise this story will continue. To be honest I didn't even think the story would be this long, but due to popularity the positive feedback which has seriously overwhelmed me, causing my liking for this story much stronger and wanting to finish it.

Now I'd like to clear things up.

Some readers may feel the similarities between The Joker and his daughter may be too similar and their mental disorders and behaviors are too coincidental in reality their similar nature and the fact they are bpth sociopaths by not be true to life. I understand if this is how it is coming across, but just keep in mind how much strain was put on Shaylee's mind and how much depression she suffered. Schizophrenia and ADHD can both be inherited genetically and their lack of treatment for their disorders would just cause it all to worsen. And also remember that Shaylee denies she is brainwashed, but she is in fact completely brainwashed by her father to the point her mind has snapped because he's drilled awful things in her head. So the fact they are similar is intentional, but I hope to show differences between them too in upcoming chapters. The fact that they are different in age and gender is something to keep in mind.

The character of Chase. Yes, he is returning, and I hope to keep the Chase haters and the Chase/Shaylee shippers happy with what I plan to do.

The whole corruption and mind-breaking of the two psychiatrists Dr Arkham and Dr Sinner will have much more of a plot point and what happened to them will be revealed.

Yes, Jane is insane.

Remember the mob and The Joker's associates wouldn't get on and The Joker would easily turn on them, not work with them.

I will say no more and hope you to look forward to what's coming up. I hope to please everyone who has been following this story, because I honestly appreciate the feedback and love this story has got. I intended just to be a little fic, but the response has made me want to carry on. When I finish, I hope it's a satisfying end.

Thank you thank you thank you for reading and I hope I don't keep you for much longer! Remember reviews and constructive criticism is always appreciated, for my last chapter I would like some! :) I'm one of those writers who's a perfectionist and hate to get it wrong, so all these kind reviews have really helped with my confidence.

Thank YOU! :D

Thanks for reading xx


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